


Bell Toll

by Mylifeisaverage



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, BUT HE LIVES, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Rough Sex, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Subspace, Suicide Attempt, Unrequited Love, its cool, mostly just talked about, or is it..., pretty much, they just couldnt help themselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:24:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 53,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mylifeisaverage/pseuds/Mylifeisaverage
Summary: After spending years and years filling the hollows of his heart with fake attention and wild parties, Yuri suddenly realized what was truly missing. He finally reunited with that piece of him he’d lost all those years ago. He could fill the vacancy that swallowed all of Yuri’s achievements and satisfaction like a vacuum. But Otabek could never be his. This happiness was just a temporary reprieve from insatiable loneliness. Soon, Yuri would have to smile for the pictures at Otabek’s wedding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im dead for yuri on ice, this is mainly me fufilling all my headcannons and my need for angst. i'm writing this with my main villain [nips!](http://crispynipple.tumblr.com) check out her shiznit cuz shes an absolute babe in every way! 
> 
> comments and kudos make me a happy baby!

After the roaring crowds dissipated, when all the nameless faces emptied out of the arena, as the evening progressed into a dense night, Yuri breathed a sigh of tired relief. He stood perfectly straight with his shoulders rolled back and head held high throughout the interviews and the scores of screaming fangirls aching to get close to him. Yakov held him in a strong, sure grip with a heavy hand at Yuri’s shoulder as he boasted of his youngest student’s glory. Fifteen was so young to meet such a coveted achievement. On his first try, Yuri Plisetsky had won the Grand Prix Finals for Russia with flying colors. He’d done it to honor his homeland, his family name, his teacher, his friends. He proved his worth to the toughest critic of all, himself. 

Though Yuri never smiled for smiling’s sake, he floated lightly on his feet as he retired to the locker rooms to get ready to go home and start all this celebratory chaos again in St. Petersburg. Strands of silken hair fell into his eyes, loosened by the rigor of his final performance of the season. It didn’t bother him. What would usually serve as nuisance couldn’t penetrate a newfound peacefulness that had overtaken him. As he untied his skates he silently basked in a job well done, a goal newly attained with thorough satisfaction and no regrets. 

Yuri barely reacted to the sound of a door kicking open. Heavy footsteps approached with confidence that felt safe and non-confrontational. Yuri slipped one skate off his foot, then the other, but he didn’t look up to see who it was. He knew who it was. A bittersweet, sinking feeling settled in his stomach. 

“You were a vision, Yuri,” a deep voice praised just warmer than monotone, “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” A warm hand brushed the hair from his eyes, and Yuri let go of a breath he’d been holding without knowing why. 

Otabek studied his face, wearing that barely-there smile Yuri had only glimpsed once or twice. He regarded him with such astonishment, filling every shift in his eyes with admiration like seeing Yuri at peace with himself was the most bewitching sight he’d ever seen. Yuri couldn’t meet his gaze, tracing Otabek’s fingers with his own where they cupped his cheek. Otabek’s smile fell. 

“What’s on your mind?” 

“Knowing what I know now,” Yuri started meekly, admitting something he had barely thought out for himself, “I wish we had more time.” Otabek waited patiently for Yuri to elaborate. The room grew hollow as they sat in thickening silence. Yuri’s peace froze over, steadily becoming a familiar sense of cold loneliness. “You’re leaving, aren’t you,” Yuri deadpanned. 

Otabek knew what he meant. Come next season, Yuri wouldn’t see his name on the list of competitors. Without figure skating, and with travel being out of the question, Yuri wouldn’t likely see Otabek again in the coming future. Even though he’d imagined having Otabek by his side, he wasn’t naive. His stomach sank a little lower. 

“I’m leaving for Almaty tonight,” Otabek informed, his lips forming a hard line. His hand dropped from Yuri’s cheek. “Then I’m going to study in Albany for a few years.” 

“Wait, what?” Yuri gasped. “Albany?” he questioned a little louder than he’d intended. Otabek set his jaw and said nothing. Yuri’s stomach fell right out of him and his heart jumped into his throat. Suddenly daydreams of annoying Otabek in Kazakhstan over the summer evaporated into thin air. Yuri could steal enough money to take the train to Almaty and still beg for forgiveness. He couldn’t fly to Canada whenever he needed someone to understand him. “Since when?” The words felt dumb and redundant but they tumbled out anyway. “You’re just telling me now? Why didn’t you say something?” 

“I didn’t know how.” The defeat that soaked through Otabek’s words shook Yuri’s bones like an earthquake. Shocked green eyes burned a hole in the side of Otabek’s head but his eyes were trained on Yuri’s skates where they laid tossed away and forgotten. In the silence, he could hear Yuri’s heart beating, his breath starting to tear. 

“No,” Yuri outwardly denied it. His voice trembled. “Beka, I need you. I’ve told you things… I– I don’t have anybody else.” Yuri ripped off his gloves to make contact with Otabek’s skin. His cheeks and throat were rough and stubbly, but even that seemed to disappear as Yuri’s vision slipped sideways. The pads of his fingers were going numb. He was getting light headed. 

“You’ll make new friends.” 

It was hard to get the words out, knowing that it had taken Yuri fifteen years to secure just one friend for only a few days. Otabek could feel his grip at Yuri’s heart tightening, smothering it in his hands. He knew Yuri felt things with an intensity that he himself didn’t understand, but Otabek had to leave. At least in winning the Grand Prix Yuri wouldn’t have to be alone. Maybe then he would learn that what they shared was different than friendship. 

“You can always call me,” Otabek reassured. He didn’t touch him or look in his direction. Yuri trembled so hard it made the bench shake under them. 

“But I won,” he barely whispered through a dry throat, “why does it seem like you… like you’re _running away?_ You can’t just leave.” Otabek was silent. His face was set in stone. Yuri choked on a lump in his throat. The pressure pushed big tears from his eyes. “What if you don’t come back?” Yuri’s voice cracked. His eyes turned red, but even still they were beautiful. 

Otabek had to squeeze his eyes shut and listen to Yuri’s hushed sobbing, knowing that he was the cause. He’d told himself to cut his ties with as little investment as possible, but he couldn’t do that with Yuri. Already cold and abandoned, he’d curled into himself with his head in his hands. With one arm wrapped around his shoulder to hold him upright, the other pried Yuri’s hands away from his face. Otabek cleared the tears from Yuri’s eyes with his thumbs, holding him close and slotting their lips together. An electric shock shot up Yuri’s spine and his eyes flew open.

“That’s a promise,” Otabek breathed, giving him another quick peck, then one more before letting Yuri go. He stood to leave. “I’ll come back to you.” 

“Wait!”

“I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone.

Yuri was stunned, barely grazing his lower lip with his nails as the locker room door slammed shut with a bang only to reopen with the sound of two people hurrying inside. The first to pop his head into the row of lockers Yuri sat completely motionless in was Yuuri Katsuki wearing his glasses. At first he was elated to have finally found where Yuri was hiding, but when he saw tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes he gasped. 

“Shut the door,” he whispered to the second set of feet. Then he tentatively made his way into the row of lockers. “Yurio?” he asked cautiously, “is everything alright?” Genuine concern oozed from Yuuri’s pores. Victor’s face appeared at the end of the row with the same sadness and more than a little hesitation.

“I’m fine,” Yuri replied flatly, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I’m just… sitting by myself.” 

He packed for St. Petersburg quickly, numbly throwing all of his belongings into a bag and leaving his hotel room more or less the same way he found it. Yakov and Lilia waited for him in the lobby, leading him out into the world like proud parents. From the moment they stepped off the plane in Russia, swarms of people rushed to greet them. 

“You’d better get used to this, Yuri,” Lilia advised, keeping her words between them, “this is your future.” She smiled. At the sight of flocks of teenage girls weeping for him a few feet away, Yuri grimaced.

* * *

“Yuri!” 

“What?!” 

“Will you ever be done in there?” A tall young man leaned against the wall near the bathroom door listening to the sounds of a hot shower and Yuri promptly ignoring him. The bare skin of his shoulders and back pressed against the threshold, dewy with steam that escaped from the doorway and the remnants of the night before. It was nearing 2:30 in the afternoon, and the man’s superiors would not be happy if he showed up for work in this state. Chocolate brown eyes rolled in their sockets. “Come on, I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Then you shouldn’t have spent the night,” Yuri deadpanned from inside the bathroom. “Shower in your own goddamn house,” he spat in addition. He leaned against the wall of the shower, nimble fingers picking apart a huge tangle among tresses of long blond hair. He griped, “for shit’s sake, Karl, what did you do to me?” 

“Nothing you didn’t beg me for,” he heard that dunce drawl from outside. Yuri scoffed, mumbling obscenities as he finally loosened the knot enough to rip it out completely. Though his hair had been even longer than down to the middle of his back before, it was always good to him and very rarely knotted up this badly. He still wasn’t very good at taking them out. He rinsed off for a few minutes longer than he needed to just to piss of one of many casual partners he used to fill his time before he emerged from the bathroom more or less dry and shamelessly naked. 

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you late for something?” 

After growing eight inches in height in the last five years, Yuri stretched out long and thin. Soft skin made supple by warm water hid lean muscle built up over years of professional figure skating. He was much stronger than he looked, and loved to challenge those who underestimated him. Being so young and attractive to the eyes of those who witnessed his coming of age with his first win at the Grand Prix Finals, Yuri gained the favor of the public more than any other skaters ever had. He was hot tempered and heavy handed and the people liked it. Every year he grew older and more well known, the worst he behaved. 

Yuri threw on whatever was closest to him and not obviously dirty, settling for a sweater riddled in cigarette burns and tight black pants that made Karl forget what he was thinking about. When Yuri turned around and he was still there, he scowled. “Do I have to spell it out to you?” he questioned. “Why are you still naked? Fuck off, I have shit to do.” 

“Wait,” Karl blurted out. Yuri threw on a jacket and only seemed to wait for Karl to speak as he searched for his house keys. “We should do this again sometime. Soon.”

“Yeah, when I feel like being thoroughly disappointed again, I’ll call you.” Yuri paid no mind to the embarrassed choking sound Karl made at the back of his throat. “Lock the door behind you,” he called over his shoulder. Then he left his own apartment with a stranger struck dumb inside. 

People were starting to discover where he lived. He stepped outside and three girls tried to look regular but he knew by their hushed squealing that they were looking for him. Anyone could know how late he liked to sleep in from all the tabloids. They’d gotten lucky and caught him finally leaving his apartment to start the day. 

Yuri dug into his pockets, finding a lighter and outwardly groaning when he’d realized he left his cigarettes on his nightstand. 

“Hey! Need a cigarette?” 

Yuri silently cursed, those girl’s must’ve seen him throw a small tantrum. With a sharp inhale through his nose, he flicked his eyes up and started towards them. Two of the girl’s grabbed each other’s hands for strength, staring at him like little rabbits in the presence of the wolf that would devour them all. The third girl left her body, her eyes going glassy and void. 

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Yuri purred, putting himself toe to toe with the girl with mousy brown hair. She’d brashly called out to him, but she never thought he’d answer or even look her way. Her hands were shaking when she offered up a brand new pack, unsealed and opened just to see what was inside. _КУРЕНИЕ УБИВАЕТ_ was printed plainly on the pack and these girls didn’t strike Yuri as risk takers. 

Without taking his eyes from hers, Yuri fished the first cigarette loose of the pack and perched the filter right on the edge of his lip. He lit it easily, sucking in a mouthful of white smoke and letting it sit and soak into his bloodstream. Letting his breath out through his nose, the cigarette left his lips and he slid the filter into the mouth of the girl who had offered it to him. Her cheeks turned bright red. Her friends gasped. 

“Suck on it. Don’t breathe in.” She did so obediently and the cigarette glowed to life. “Hold it… and let it go.” She sighed a breath of smoke that made her eyes water. They would have anyway with how close he was standing to her. “Very good,” he praised in a low voice, “I’m having some people over later. You should come and let me thank you properly.” 

One was struck speechless. One barely contained a scream of excitement. And the third nearly choked on a mouthful of smoke, knowing not of how to take the cigarette out of her mouth with style. Yuri smirked, casually taking the rest of her pack from her. She wouldn’t be needing it. 

“Can we meet your friends?” One of them rasped. Her friends nodded. 

“Friends?” Yuri questioned in mock confusion. “I don’t have any friends.”

He waved goodbye and turned on his heels. He was barely twenty feet away before one of them broke and screamed to the heavens, but he knew they wouldn’t dare return to his apartment building again. He was never planning any sort of get together, but there were dozens of rumors of what went on at those parties and none of them were good. It would surely keep them away.

Yuri strolled into a smallish studio a few blocks away with a cup of black coffee from a local cafe in hand. Inside, a pretty girl sat in makeup while a band of pinch-faced assistants bustled about shouting in French and Italian. Two sets were already completed, a stark white backdrop with a group of soft-box lights and a few warm diffusers set up near the doorway of the greenroom. 

“Aurelien!” Yuri called out to anyone paying attention. A woman with big owlish eyes whirled around and gasped dramatically. 

“Finally, Yuri’s here everybody!” She shouted. Yuri did his best to ignore her as her voice trailed shrilly through the air. A smug grin dig dimples into his cheeks. He plopped down amongst all the ring lights and makeup wipes right next to the girl he’d be shooting with today. He didn’t recognize her, this must be her first real job. 

“And _you_ are?”

“Almost two hours late!” Aurelien used his sentence to finish hers as she hesitantly stepped around the kits and palettes strewn haphazardly all over the floor. “You know Stephano gets upset if things don’t go his way! He’s already stormed out three times!” With her hair slicked back into a tight bun it pulled on her face so hard she looked like she might pop.

“But I got here, didn’t I?” Yuri observed impishly, the girl beside him covered a smile with her hand. Aurelien scoffed, stuck her nose in the air, and scurried away to her cameras to prepare for the shoots. When she was out of earshot Yuri added, “Hm. I’ve never seen an ostrich in real life before.” And the girl didn’t stifle soft laughter. Smug elevated to downright complacent, the closest thing to happiness Yuri felt anymore. “Let’s get this over with.” 

For the first half of the day, Yuri would demonstrate how to speak the language of high end fashion photographers and they all spoke different versions of it. Communication between model and photographer was key to successful day and the easier it was to get to finished product, the more the industry liked the models enough to invite them back. Yuri stood lazily in the middle of a sea of white while Aurelien’s assistants brought the brights up. After a few test shots to check settings and light readings, the designer returned from his temper tantrum. An older man with a pencil-thin mustache, Stephano.

“Ah Mon Dieu! Yuri, you’re here! My favorite pet!” He cajoled. Most of Yuri’s more realistic smiles were reserved for this man who gave him a lot of the money he’d been making in the past few years. For some reason his flippant nature endeared Stephano and no one could explain why. Yuri stared into the camera, feeding it the closest thing he’s felt to delight in a while without some sort of substance to carry him there. “You’ve met Safia, yes?” Stephano offered up the girl like a prize and Yuri smirked in her direction.

“We’ve met.”

“Ooh, Safia, be careful,” Stephano drawled, finding pleasure in the way Yuri outwardly ignored him in favor of dropping to the floor knees splayed and hem of his sweater in his mouth. “Anyone that _that one_ smiles at is in trouble, but _look_ at him!” He whined through his teeth, leering at Yuri’s skin as he calmly made cover after cover of magazines he never read.

“What is this shoot for?” Safia asked innocently, having only been contracted for the shoot near the greenroom. 

“Stephano’s private collection,” Yuri replied quickly and Stephano broke out into bellowing laughter. Yuri stood up and waved the girl over to him without Aurelien’s permission. She joined him right in front of the camera with the frame around her head and shoulders. “Look there,” Yuri instructed, showing her right down the lens of Aurelien’s camera. 

She breathed out. “Okay.” Yuri snaked a hand around her waist. Safia stiffened but kept her eyes trained on the camera.

“Have you ever been in love?” He spoke quietly. Safia swiftly looked over her shoulder without realizing that he was right next to her, long hair falling over her shoulder. Even from her position it was picturesque. “Look right there and think about the way they made you feel.” Her eyes grew and shined in the light, rapidly lowered to suit the mood. She relaxed, her lips parted, she wasn’t startled when Yuri ran the tip of his nose through her hair. Aurelien snapped a few photos and everyone was quiet. 

“Wow,” was all Stephano had to say. 

“Are you in love?” Safia mused, her voice going soft and airy. Yuri stood behind her, mouthing at the shell of her ear and making her the focal point of the shot. She shuddered and poured her pliance into the camera. Yuri had her by the waist but she could feel the difference right away. His movements were slower, colder. 

“No,” he answered simply, and he let her go.

“Bellissima, Yuri,” Stephano praised with a wide smile. “Are you sure you have not met before?” he pried with a waggle of his brows, “you seem to know each other quite well.” Aurelien moaned for Sephano not to force his own ideas on other people, but Yuri was already tuning them out. He was halfway across the room grabbing his stuff before Stephano sensed the shift in mood. “Yuri, darling–”

“I helped your little ingenue cut her teeth. Now I’m leaving,” Yuri stated simply, then he was out the door, angrily shaking his lighter when it wouldn’t light on the first try. 

Safia’s brows knit together. “I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to upset him or anything, but–”

“It’s okay, really,” Aurelien jumped up to reassure their new model as she got her first taste of working with divas. “Yuri’s always been quick to anger, sometimes he gets upset for no reason at all.”

“Oh there’s a reason,” Stephano interrupted with a knowing smirk, “and he,” a dramatic point out the door, “doesn’t even _know_ that it’s the only reason he does anything.” Safia waited for him to speak and Aurelien’s brows shot up to her hairline. Stephano wore a toothy grin, chuffed to bits that he knew something about Yuri that no one else did. He said one name. 

“Beka.” 

“Becca?” Safia parroted, “Who’s she?”

“No no, not Becca, sweetheart. _Beka._ ”

* * *

“Hey asshole,” Yuri growled into his phone at the last person he felt like talking to. “Be at my place in fifteen minutes. I’m in a bad mood.” 

_“Of course, princess, nothing pleases me like serving you.”_

“I don’t need your bullshit, Karl. Be at my door or forget you ever knew me. I don’t have time for this.” 

_“What happened?”_

Yuri rudely hung up the phone without another word. He took wide steps in the direction of home, sucking on the end of a cigarette as he went. He didn’t know what was wrong. He just knew his heart stopped beating for a moment and for a reason he’d long since blacked out, probably something Yakov or Victor had said to him. The only way to forget this strikingly familiar sinking feeling in his stomach was to bury it deep and bury it now. 

By the time Yuri made it to the courtyard of his apartment complex his hands were shaking. He shoved a handful of hair from his eyes for it to fan out over them again and again. His throat was going dry and raw. His blood was moving fast, but not enough of it flowed down to his legs. He tried to climb the stairs two at a time, but his blood pressure dropped and he had to take a break. When he finally made it to his door, he was seeing double and his lungs ached. 

Hearing the sound of Yuri’s keys scratching against the lock, Karl rushed over and opened the door. The very instant the door flew open, Yuri breathed a sigh of relief. Big brown eyes, strong hands, and dark hair; they were exactly what he needed. He clambered onto Karl’s neck, clawing his shoulders to stay upright and sealing their lips together like he needed it to breathe. 

“Mm, wait. Yuri, wait–”

Smothered by deep desperate kisses, Karl lost it for a split second and backed Yuri up against the door. Without having to carry his own weight, Yuri relaxed with a soft little mew, shivering when Karl ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” 

Yuri’s eyes snapped wide open. He knew that voice better than his own. Stepping out of his bedroom and kicking away dirty clothes with a less than pleased wrinkle of the nose stood his very own personal nuisance, Victor Nikiforov. Yuri looked between Victor and Karl for several seconds before detaching from Karl like he was covered in fire ants. Victor stepped over the worst of the mess on his way over to them, the picture of stern fatherly disappointment. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Yuri mumbled indignantly, “you can’t just invite yourself into my house, get out.” Victor was unfazed. 

“Yuri,” Victor hummed his name low on his register, “I’m afraid I cannot allow this to go on any further.” Yuri swallowed thickly. 

“Another one of your daddies?” Karl inquired incredulously. For the past few weeks, he’d been convinced that every other suitor Yuri threatened him with had been a bluff. Victor, looking regal and expensive, seemed to have himself together much better than Karl did. All he had going for him in Yuri’s eyes was his availability when things went wrong. 

Victor seemed confused, but nodded after a few moments of pondering. “Yes, I guess you could say that if that’s what you want to call it.” Yuri went from pale to flushed in a second.

“Get out,” Yuri spat, and Karl crossed his arms and made it a point to look accomplished. Yuri whirled around, eyes blazing. “If you’re not out of my house in ten seconds, I’ll hurt you so bad you’ll never walk again.” The door slammed right in Karl’s face, shoved right out of the room at the drop of a hat, leaving Yuri alone with Victor. 

“Well he seems…” Victor mulled it over, “...charming. He sees me as a father figure in your life too.” 

“Oh my god, shut up, you don’t even–” Yuri groaned like a spoiled rotten brat, ripping off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch where Victor had been waiting for Yuri to come home only to meet his most recent toy. 

“You’ll lose him if you keep treating him like that,” Victor warned, “you’re finally seeing someone. It’s good for–” 

“I said shut up.” That feeling in his stomach still nagged at the edges of his focus. He was distracted. He could control his breathing and heart rate but his throat was still cracking and his hands still trembled. “What do you want, Victor?” 

Victor softened at the waver in Yuri’s voice. Sure he was still seconds away from screaming, but before he was angry at Victor for dwelling in his personal space he was clawing at his own front door for entry. There was something at the back of his mind that needed dealing with. 

“I dropped by with good news. A surprise for you,” Victor answered. He didn’t ask what was bothering him and Yuri noticed. He exhaled. “Then I found this.” Victor recovered an Altoids tin he stowed away in his pocket. Yuri turned ghostly white. Inside were dozens of pills in three varieties. “This isn’t what I think it looks like, right Yuri?” It sounded pleading. Victor’s brow furrowed when Yuri took too long to say no. 

“It’s not drugs if that’s what you’re saying,” Yuri denied sheepishly, “they’re just… not my prescriptions that’s all.”

Victor shook his head, he didn’t believe it. How could he believe that the boy he watch grow up could be living like this just twenty minutes from his doorstep. He didn’t care about his health or wellbeing at all, he spent days on end at parties where strangers pretended to love him just to gain some status in knowing him, and now Victor saw that he supplemented lonely nights with medication that wasn’t his. 

“No,” he denied it, “this is entirely unacceptable.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, putting up a weak wall of stubborn anger to hide behind. “What are you gonna do, take away my favorite toy?” he grumbled sarcastically. A light bulb flicked on in Victor’s head. 

“No,” he started, “I’m going to give you a chance to earn it.” Yuri scoffed and left the living room, peeling out of his sweater. “Something is coming in a week no matter what,” Victor went on, “if you can get your act together by then, I’ll let you have it.” Victor stopped Yuri with a hand on his shoulder. He held up Yuri’s artfully concealed pills, “I’ll be taking these.” 

“Yeah fucking right.” A sudden swipe of his free hand nearly stole the tin right out of Victor’s hand. He was barely fast enough to dodge in time. He used Yuri’s momentum to spin him around, trapping Yuri against his chest with his own arms. 

“Listen to me, Yurochka,” he hissed with strain as he wriggled with Yuri’s attempts to escape. “Use this as an opportunity to get better. This is the one thing you’ve been yearning for for years. Nothing would make me happier than to give it to you, but you have to try. You’re better than this stuff, Yuri.” 

Struggling against his own arms crossed across his chest, Yuri had no choice but to calm down and hear Victor out. He’d come all this way. He’d left Yuuri at home with the girls by himself. It was clearly important enough to fight over, maybe it would be worth it to clean up a bit just to see this through. 

“But if it’s not worth it,” Yuri spoke before he really thought it out, “you’re giving me my pills back.” Victor gave a deep, tired sigh. He loosened his grip and Yuri was free. 

“Fine,” Victor agreed defeatedly, “but will you come have dinner with us before you take them? Stella has been asking about you.” 

Three years and two months ago, Mari Katsuki gave birth to two beautiful girls, the daughters of Yuuri and Victor, Stella and Akari. Yuri remembered it like it was yesterday. The Onsen was quiet and peaceful with the loudest most energetic member of the family in overwhelming bliss. Mari explained to Yuri that her brother thought the surrogacy was a gift to them but Victor paid her handsomely over her first cigarette in a year. Yuri had the chance to hold two tiny little girls for all but a minute each before they were swept away by their fathers, utterly astonished by their beauty. Stella had Yuuri’s eyes and Akari had his, those were the only words Victor spoke all day. 

Yuri swallowed again, feeling his stomach sink even further. Victor was happy. After Yuri let the katsudon win gold a year after his first win, they were married. They had the children they’d always dreamed of. Yuuri found more self confidence every day. Victor had fulfilled everything he’d set out to do in the last five years. And what had Yuri been doing? Breaking his bender records by days at a time. 

“Yeah,” Yuri agreed, waving his hand in the air. Shame filled the hollows of his heart. “Yeah, just tell me when.” A content smile lit up Victor’s eyes. He readied himself to leave. 

“You can do this, Yuri. I promise it’ll be worth it.” When Victor departed, Yuri sat himself down on the couch. And for the first time in years, he let himself cry.

* * *

A week was a lot longer than he thought it would be. He’d believe it would be difficult, but he didn’t think it would be so _boring._ Several people invited him to a handful of parties which he resigned himself to witness from his bed via instagram. Five days in, he actually _looked forward_ to doing the laundry. In a matter of hours, he suddenly felt like he had things to wear. With everything he owned clean and ready to go, he had choices he’d never thought to try. 

When Victor told him to head down to the airport to pick someone up, Yuri thought it might be Mari or maybe even Christophe. Neither were people he cared to impress, but he spent the day looking through all the strange pieces Stephano designed for him, among other big names that loved to dress his body. 

The ride to the airport was normal and quick. He’d forgone morning coffee and still felt awake and alert despite him not being a morning person at all. His hair gave him a run for his money a few times, the wind tilting just enough to blow it all in his face the moment he moved. But he felt good. He wasn’t even smoking. Maybe he’d keep this up, but he’d never tell Victor. 

At the airport, he parked near the terminal Victor had specified and waited for whomever he came for leaned up against his car. Five minutes went by. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. He sent a quick text to Victor. 

**Who exactly am I waiting for?**

Victor answered immediately. 

**He’s outside. Keep your eyes peeled, you won’t miss him.**

Yuri scanned the crowds. It was a slow day at the airport. A few groups scattered here and there, but no one caught his eye. He squinted as another person standing to his left scanned through his phone, looking up into the stream of cars for his ride. Yuri’s brow furrowed. It didn’t look like Christophe. No, he wasn’t tall enough. Or gay enough. But they did seem familiar. Brown eyes, strong hands, dark hair… 

In that instant the stranger’s eyes flicked up and their gazes met. 

Yuri dropped his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> КУРЕНИЕ УБИВАЕТ _kurenie ubivaet_ \- smoking kills
> 
>  
> 
> [accepting comments, prompts, and commissions at our tumblr.](angstgods.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bell toll is new and improved starting RIGHT MEOW! special thanks to beka, autumn, cat, and sarah for your help. couldn't have done it without you! lemme know what you guys think!

Yuri’s eyes went wide and soft. The breeze carried strands of his hair through the air. 

“Otabek?” 

He looked exactly the same. He looked totally different. Crowds of travelers parted in the presence of Otabek Altin in a particularly bad mood. As small as he might be to some, he was not to be tested and nobody dared to. Every room he entered grew cold and quiet, he was a black hole sucking up all the light in his path. A pair of bottomless black eyes saw into the souls of everyone he met. His intensity was smothering and it let up for no one. Some things never changed, like the uniform propriety Otabek carried himself with; shoulders back, chest forward. He commanded attention, filling the terminal with a dangerous aura. He had dark, jet lagged circles under his eyes from a torturous flight and long nights of studying after even longer days at work. 

Yuri looked exactly the same, he looked totally different. What used to be an awkward gangly teenager was now sharp lines and long legs. Somehow he stayed thin and elegant while developing the muscle he needed to land more complicated jumps, master quicker steps, and bewitch everyone who saw him. Long glossy hair blurred the lines between masculine and feminine, but his pale green eyes had stayed exactly the same, strong and guarded like the eyes of a soldier. 

Cell phone slipping from his fingers, Yuri watched Otabek’s face. He blinked, denying this reality, shaking it away with a barely there toss of his head. His jaw was set in perfect fortitude, but his guard was left down. He squeezed his lying eyes shut, but when they opened back up Yuri was headed right for him, each stride getting faster and faster. Then Otabek noticed his height. 

Dropping every wall he’d built up around him, Yuri felt his heart about to explode in his chest. His blood was moving, his lungs were working. He felt the weight of every thought and emotion he’d shoved far down just so he could function every day finally bubbling up. This was what had been missing. This was why he woke up every morning feeling disconnected. 

Otabek barely found the time to drop his bag before Yuri got to him. Their embrace sent a shock up their spines. They were chest to chest and Yuri squeezed Otabek to him as hard as he could but it just wasn’t enough. Blood rushed to his cheeks. Tears prickled his eyes. He showed straight pearly teeth in a wide duchenne smile, growing into a blissful grin when Otabek wove his fingers into his hair. They separated enough to get a good look at one another. 

“Long time no see,” Yuri greeted, the arm around Otabek’s waist subtly checking his hip. Otabek examined him carefully, smoothing Yuri’s hair out of his face to see every inch of him. He opened his mouth but found himself speechless. Yuri’s smile tightened into a smirk, he closed the others mouth with two fingers on his chin. The hand in Yuri’s hair migrated to the back of his head and Otabek pressed their foreheads together. Yuri closed his eyes and Otabek breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Look! It’s him!” 

At the sound of a badly concealed whisper in their direction and an accidental camera flash, Otabek practically shoved Yuri away with a cough. Yuri inhaled sharply. Before he had time to fully process what had happened, a band of girls about high school age caught his eye. Yuri saw Otabek cast his eyes down, trying not to draw any more attention than they already had. He furrowed his brow, lost in thought. 

Otabek had nearly forgotten what rage looked like in Yuri’s eyes. They narrowed to violent points, shining like gems and flashing with exasperation. He hid his expression behind a veil of hair, but when he straightened up and squared his shoulders, Yuri was the picture of suave calmness. Standing up straight, Otabek’s eyes cast ever so slightly upward to accommodate Yuri’s new height. 

“Oh, I _like_ this,” Yuri purred through a smirk. “I’m gonna go deal with that.” Otabek dropped his gaze to the ground, watching Yuri’s boots as he made his way over to four girls in school uniforms he recognized as the school he’d attended briefly before committing to professional figure skating. “Does Olesya Ivanovna Bezrukova still work at school?” he asked casually. All four girls gasped in recognition. 

“Y-You– You went to–”

“You went to _our_ school?!”

“You know Olesya Ivanovna Bezrukova?!” 

“She and I go way back,” Yuri confirmed smugly. He’d really given that particular teacher a run for her money. “Cut your hair, tuck in your shirt, a jacket the color of _wet_ asphalt, Yurochka,” he mocked, remembering just how tiresome he had been as a student before he quit school and all he wanted to do was skate. The girls laughed, giddy with the excitement of meeting someone they’d only seen glimpses of on social media. 

“They’ve relaxed the uniform code for boys since you left,” one of them informed, “they can have their hair down to their shoulders!” Her friends nodded with her. 

“Good, good,” Yuri mused, “Now. Which one of you was taking pictures of my friend and I?” 

It seemed innocent and friendly on the surface, but the warning coasting under Yuri’s breath wiped the smiles clean off their faces. After a few seconds of tense silence with Yuri’s eyes burning into them, a girl with dark brown braids stepped forward. 

“I-I did,” she admitted with her tail between her legs. She looked down at the ground, gasping when Yuri extended a hand into her penitent field of vision. 

“Can I see them?” 

She stared up at him with big eyes, but he met her gaze with a pleasant smile. Her friends pushed at her shoulders, egging her on. She clumsily produced her phone and dumbly held it out to him. Yuri barely raised his brows. She had a pass code. 

“Oh, it’s–” 

“No no, let me guess,” he hummed, “how many characters?” 

“Seven…” 

The girls watched eagerly as Yuri studied her face. He made note of her age and the apparent ages of her friends. They seemed pretty close-knit. The girl’s phone itself had stickers of all her favorite characters from different shows and comics pasted on the back. He noticed a recurring theme. Seven characters… 

_D - E - S - T - I - E - L_

Her phone unlocked and opened up to her photos. The girls screeched and Yuri couldn’t stop a grimace forming on his face which really only looked like a grumpy wrinkle of his nose. 

“How did you–”

“It’s a gift.”

The last five photos were of Yuri and Otabek. The girls were quiet as they watched Yuri’s face go from pleased with himself to genuine joy. Each photo was closer and clearer than the last and the final photo was nearly perfect. Yuri’s face was turned away, but Otabek looked like he’d just come home after years of being away. 

Selecting all five pictures, Yuri sent them to himself, typing his number into this girl’s phone. Once they were delivered, he deleted the pictures from her phone as well as from their conversation. He let her keep his phone number. Her friends were speechless, but the girl with the braids mourned the loss of her photos. 

“It had to be done,” Yuri shrugged, “my friend is a little camera shy. Try to understand.” 

“No no, it makes sense,” the girl agreed quickly, “I just wish someone would look at me like that.” She looked over to where Otabek was on the phone, trying not to look over at them. Yuri’s smile fell a little, his eyes creased at the edges and one of the girls let out a swooning sigh. 

“You’re so sweet, Yuri,” she hummed, “how could anyone say you’re cold-hearted?” 

“Oh, I’m cold-hearted alright.” Handing back the girl’s phone, Yuri made it obvious that he’d added his phone number to her contacts. She stopped breathing for a good five or six seconds. “You can give it to your friends here, but if you share it with anyone else I’ll change my number and no one will ever believe you.” His voice was low and serious. She nodded her understanding. Her friends mimicked her. 

When Yuri turned and walked away, they broke into frantic whispers, picking up their bags and heading into the airport to really scream about the single most amazing thing that had ever happened to them. Otabek watched them leave, brow furrowed in confusion when Yuri seemed pleased with how their little talk went. The second they were close enough Yuri had to touch him, landing his hand on Otabek’s shoulder and they both headed to the car with purpose. 

“What did you say to them?” Otabek interrogated when Yuri took his place in the driver’s seat. He’d grabbed Yuri’s forgotten phone before closing his door, but it was waterlogged and had to be replaced. 

“I figured you didn’t want any pictures getting out,” Yuri reassured him with a small smile. “You’re so private still.” 

Otabek was pensive for a moment, thinking about the time that had passed. Yuri was driving, a recent achievement punctuated by the purchase of a rather posh car just for the hell of it, nothing too flashy or obvious. Or maybe it wasn’t so recent, it had been two years since Yuri earned his license. The car didn’t smell new, it mostly smelled like Yuri and vaguely of cigarette smoke. He was smoking, when did that happen?

“I sent myself copies if you wanna see them,” Yuri added as an afterthought, “it almost looked like you were gonna kiss me again.” 

The temperature in the car dropped noticeably. On the outside, Otabek appeared completely passive. Emotion was a rare display of colors for him and always had been, but something in the air changed with the way he clenched his teeth and stared at the road ahead. 

Too much. Yuri almost swore out loud. Otabek was a painfully discreet person. Where Yuri had always wanted to be solitary but felt too strongly to hold it all in, Otabek could go months without showing that he felt anything at all. Yuri only managed to penetrate the first layers of Otabek’s tough exterior because he happened to be the quietest option and the only other skater Otabek had known at the time was JJ. He opened up for Yuri, fractionally, and it was only just enough to draw him in. Mystery had its appeal, and Yuri was curious enough to stick around. Yuri could sense when Otabek was uncomfortable, being one of the only people who could discern _uncomfortable_ from _irritated_. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, feeling it in waves. 

“I thought it would’ve been Yuuko or Mari,” Yuri changed the subject. “I’m glad it wasn’t Christophe, my house is _not_ big enough to deal with that douchebag–”

“I think I’m just gonna get a hotel room or something.” Otabek stole a glance over to where Yuri had apparently stopped breathing mid-sentence. He swallowed, and watching the way his throat constricted made Otabek swallow too. 

“Yeah,” Yuri stared into the windshield. He didn’t blink. “I mean, of course. What did I say?” 

“Nothing, I was just letting you know.” 

Yuri let out a tremulous breath through his nose and hoped no one noticed. “Are you sure?” he asked just in case, “I have plenty of room–”

“No.” Yuri accidentally tapped the brakes and they both lurched forward. “I don’t want to put you out,” Otabek amended, and that was the end of it. 

Yuri’s smile was gone. He still drove a good amount over the speed limit, but he slowed down pretty significantly and showed no signs of speeding back up. Soon he was under the limit like a law-abiding citizen until some other rowdy twenty-something abruptly cut him off. Otabek would’ve said nothing, but Yuri was halfway out of his window. 

“This isn’t New York, shitstain!” he spat through his teeth.

“Move over, Grandma!”

Yuri ducked back into the car with a fierce snarl on his face. He mumbled obscene threats under his breath and Otabek felt the need to lock his seat belt in anticipation. With Yuri’s window rolled all the way down, he slammed down on the gas and gusts of wind blew his hair all around. 

They zoomed past the offending car with Yuri shouting, “Suck my cock!” right into their ears as they passed. They slowed down a few miles later, but Otabek could tell he wasn’t satisfied. He squeezed the steering wheel to let out some of his energy. He heaved riled up breaths through his nose. 

They finally slowed to a stop in front of _a_ hotel, but it wasn’t exactly what Otabek had meant. Yuri pulled up in front of the Astoria and it didn’t seem like he was joking. The sun was high overhead. Dozens of people in there excess and finery moved in and out of the hotel’s front door. Otabek had stayed here once or twice on someone else’s dime, but a college student’s pay wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Just tell them you know me,” Yuri instructed flatly, “they’ll give you my room.” And with that, Otabek and his bag were banished from Yuri’s car, left to gaze at the opulence of the Astoria Hotel. 

Yuri slammed the door to his apartment, hands shaking and mind going at a hundred miles a second. He opened all the drawers in the kitchen, checked all his jacket pockets. No cigarettes. Nothing to calm down with. 

God damn it.

He couldn’t even figure out what the problem _was,_ and that bothered him the most. Trembling? Check. Sweating? Check. Trouble swallowing? Check. But what did it mean? Which combination equated to what ailment? What did he do? He could look it up. He patted his pockets for his phone, he never went without it. But it won’t turn on. It’s dead. From dropping it into a puddle like a dumbass.

God damn it! 

He whirled around to run to the nearest place that sold anything that would help him stop thinking, only to stop abruptly and gasp at the face looking right at him. 

“You look pale, baby,” Karl had somehow made his way back into Yuri’s apartment and now had his hands around his waist, “what’s going on?” 

“How the fuck did you get in here?” Yuri enunciated every single word, pouring every ounce of confusion and anger into them. Karl said nothing, grinning like a shot fox and nuzzling the crook of Yuri’s neck. The contact made the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end and Yuri shoved Karl away with a warning growl. “Do I have to change the locks? I slept with you twice, you don’t mean shit to me.”

“We were going for a third before your dad came home–”

“He is not my dad!” Yuri bared his teeth like he would tear out Karl’s throat in a second. “How do you not know that? I’m famous! Victor, he’s a fucking _Olympian_!”

“Yuri, you gotta–”

“If you say relax, I swear to god, Karl, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” 

The concern on Karl’s face only made him more angry. Karl took a cautious step forward like he was walking on eggshells. Yuri took a step back. With every advance, Yuri retreated until he was backed into the glass doors separating the living room from the balcony. 

“Yuri,” Karl kept his voice soft, using both hands to tuck Yuri’s hair behind his ears. Yuri stiffened like he was getting ready to throw a punch. “You’re having a panic,” Karl deadpanned. “You’re not coping. All this anger is unhealthy. You should be seeing someone.” Yuri squirmed.

“Shut up. I’m coping just fine. You don’t know me.” He shook out of Karl’s hold. “If you’re here to fuck me, the answer is no. Get out.” 

Karl called his name once, twice, three times, but Yuri was serious. He wanted him to disappear but that didn’t stop him from shaking like a leaf. “If I were here to fuck you, why would I try to help you?” Karl threw his hands up, “Wouldn’t I just take advantage of the situation?” 

“Is that _not_ what you came here to do?” Yuri countered dryly. Karl sighed and shook his head. When Yuri thought he’d won, Karl produced a small Altoids tin from his pocket. Yuri’s eyes went wide at the sight of it.

“Took this off Victor a few days ago. I meant to give them back sooner but I got tied up.” He tossed the tin to Yuri who caught it with both hands, opening it up to check the contents. “Would a fuck buddy get those back for you?” Karl asked, seeing Yuri relax when everything was as it should be. He sighed and meandered into the kitchen, pawing around on the counter top for something to act as a mortaring pestle. He settled for the handle of a big wooden spoon, his free hand digging around and plucking out three pills of different shapes and sizes and setting them aside in the lid of the tin to crush into powder. “Hold on, hold on,” Karl intervened softly. Yuri sighed again, leaning into the counter. His head fell forward, hair veiling his eyes. 

“What do you want?” Yuri asked instead of thanking him. He put up a meager fight when Karl took the spoon from him and returned it to the vase it lived in. The Altoids tin was closed and pushed away, leaving Yuri feeling small in Karl’s arms. 

“Tell me what happened.” Yuri bristled. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here for–”

“No,” Yuri interrupted sharply. It took Karl by surprise, but he didn’t let go. “No,” Yuri tried again, “I just...” Yuri shifted his weight and Karl filled the empty space, trapping Yuri against the counter with a hand squeezing lightly at his hipbone. “I just wanna stop thinking,” Yuri admitted vaguely. Gently tracing his hairline from his temple to behind his ear, Karl swept his hair over his shoulder, exposing his neck. He was still. Karl gave in with a kiss just behind his ear and Yuri exhaled tiredly. With his chest flush to Yuri’s back, he let his fingertips play along the soft lines of his stomach, pushing his shirt up. It was up and over his head with one clean, fluid motion. Yuri preferred being naked, liked the way his hair slipped along his skin. 

“Don’t you get lonely?” Karl asked him with a sweet peck to the back of his neck. “I care about you, y’know. I worry about you. Why won’t you let me be your friend?” 

Yuri reminded him, “I don’t have any friends.” A shiver rolled down his spine and he couldn’t tell if it was Karl or something else that caused it. “Just… Just take these off,” he sped away from that thought and reached back to grab Karl’s hands. They found the top of his pants and made quick work of getting them open. “Take them off,” Yuri whined with that was meant to be a provocative little wiggle. “ _Off–_ ”

“Relax, there’s no rush,” Karl responded to Yuri’s impatience, “I’ll take care of you.” 

A knock on the door rang out through the house. Karl’s grip on Yuri’s waist tightened. Their eyes shot up to the door. 

“Yuri, uh… the receptionist let me up. She said you were home… It’s me.”

Yuri had never looked so small in Karl’s eyes before. His eyes flicked over to the door with a palpable sense of fear and his body convulsed with more anxiety than it knew what to do with. Yuri looked like a little boy in the arms of his mother, waiting for his father to come home and punish him for breaking a vase with a ball. 

“Is anyone there?”

“H-Hold on!” Yuri stood silently and threw his shirt back on, nervously shoving his hair out of his eyes. 

“ _Who is that?_ ” Karl mouthed, not moving with nearly enough urgency as Yuri tried to figure out what to do with him. He lived on the eleventh floor. It’s not like Karl could fly out the window. But there were no other exits. 

“Is this a bad time?”

“No! No, just– One second.” 

Yuri grabbed Karl by the neck and threw him into the coat closet, slamming the door in his face before opening the front door to find Otabek standing behind it. His brows knit together almost immediately as he scanned Yuri’s state of disarray, face flushed, lips bitten, hair tousled. 

“Otabek,” Yuri exclaimed a little too loudly, “what’re you doing here?” 

“Yuri,” Otabek addressed him with a reverence that Yuri didn’t deserve, “is it alright if I stay with you?” 

Yuri was taken aback, “of course you can,” he answered as a matter of fact. “Yeah, fuck. You can, uh–” He abruptly swung open the door, blocking the coat closet with his body. “Come in.” With a grateful nod, Otabek passed him with confident strides, venturing into the house to take in the design. 

The first thing Otabek noticed was a lack of television which seemed like a big jump in depth for Yuri, even when he’d been surprising him all day. The house opened up with a spacious combined living room and dining room separated from the kitchen by a breakfast bar. It was simply laid out with clean, minimal furnishings. Too put together for Yuri to have had any say. Victor must’ve taken over at some point and Yuri hadn’t had the energy to argue. To the left were two doors leading to two bedrooms. To the right, beside the kitchen, sat the bathroom and the washing machine. Straight ahead was a balcony facing east, ideal for sunrises that Yuri never saw. 

“Uh, wow. So, you can stay in that room. Bathroom’s over there, kitchen... I really only have coffee in stock, I don’t really eat much,” Yuri rattled off a confused spiel for where everything was. He noticed Otabek’s eyes stop between two armchairs across from the couch for a second too long. “Oh, that. TV turns on like this,” tossing a remote from one hand to the other, Yuri turned on a projector and the last few minutes of a terrible b-horror movie appeared on the wall between the chairs. “I don’t know, I kinda hated how a big black box looked on the wall. It’s kinda extra but I don’t watch much–”

Otabek cut him off, “you’re shaking.” Yuri didn’t even realize it until he whirled around to meet Otabek’s gaze after aimlessly wandering about the house pointing things out. The look on his face was blank, but those dark eyes shone with concern. Dropping his bag on the floor by the door, Otabek shed his jacket with a careless toss, pulled off his scarf, and yanked off his gloves with his teeth and shoved them into his pockets. Yuri was speechless, watching sharp canines dig little grooves into the leather, listening to the way it scratched against the stubble on his face. Yuri swallowed weakly when a strong arm wrapped around his body, holding him upright. 

“I’m sorry, I just…” He choked on his words. “I need to–” Tapping into Otabek’s strength Yuri staggered back towards the breakfast bar, leaning heavily against it after a sudden drop in blood pressure. He braced himself on the counter top with quivering arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Altoids tin in plain view. A cold sweat collected on the nape of his neck. His vision constricted into a tight tunnel, seeing only the tin.

“Look at me.” Otabek was met with a crazed look in Yuri’s eyes and he visibly retracted. Yuri squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, sputtering at the hair in his mouth. Those eyes were unrelenting. It was hot under their intense scrutiny, impossible to calm down. Yuri tried to laugh and play it off to diffuse the tension thickening in the air. 

“I missed you, Beka,” he tried to push through but his throat was closing up, “I can’t believe– can’t… can’t breathe–” The room spun in a slow blurry waltz. Yuri tried to curl into himself but Otabek hauled him back upright. He clamped a hand down on Yuri’s jaw like a vice, forcing his head up and elongating his neck. 

“Come on, in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Otabek instructed, maintaining searing eye contact until Yuri obeyed. He stopped hyperventilating. “Good good, just like that,” he praised lowly. Yuri could feel his voice thrumming in his chest. “Nice and slow…” Soon Yuri had enough breath to abashedly sigh and scrub his hands over his eyes. He couldn’t ignore the lingering burn of that crazy grip on his face nor at his shoulder moments before. He swallowed to even his breath. “Better?” Otabek asked without a hint of care in his voice or on his face. Yuri never looked to those two indicators, Otabek’s eyes gave away his worry. Yuri nodded, not quite ready to face him yet. “I missed you too,” he added after a few seconds of quiet. He backed off, giving Yuri space to breathe. 

“Well,” Yuri had to chuckle. When he felt confident, he stood up off the counter and squared his feet, throwing his arms up in surrender. “What do you think?” His legs weren’t quite on his side yet, his hands still trembled, his face was red and blotchy, his hair was _everywhere_. “I know, I’m a train-wreck,” he tried to coolly dispel, effectively cutting Otabek off before he could speak. He noticed right away and internally kicked himself, too distracted to notice Otabek taking him in detail for detail, all but circling him like a raven. 

“No, you’re not.” Yuri froze at the sharpness tinting Otabek’s tone. He realized he’d submitted himself for judgement without really thinking of what he’d do with the results. It made him stand a little straighter, smooth his hands down over his thighs and blowing hair out of his face. His heart rate picked up as he watched Otabek scan his eyes down over his chest, feeling his gaze on him like a physical caress. Otabek drew nearer, now chest to chest with Yuri who had his lip between his teeth. He craned his neck ever so slightly and a look of peaceful acceptance crossed his features. He had his conclusion. Yuri held his breath. “You’re huge,” Otabek said simply, “last time I saw you, I could throw you over my shoulder.” 

“Oh, uh,” Yuri stammered and coughed up a puff of laughter, too concentrated on the blackness that overtook Otabek’s eyes for no more than a second, a momentary loss of control. It made Yuri’s heart seized up so hard his hand twitched like it wanted to clutch at his chest. “I know. It snuck up on me too.” He awkwardly shoved his hair out of his eyes, but that wasn’t good enough, it kept slipping down. He turned to look around for something to tie it back and a wall of blond hair removed Otabek from his vision. But it was cleared away, tucked behind his ear with a gentle caress. Standing closer than he ever had, Otabek ran his thumb along Yuri’s cheek. They were still like that for a moment, but the intensity of Otabek’s stare was too much and Yuri shied away. He found a hair tie, holding it between his teeth. “Still the butt of every joke, though,” he diffused, bending over just a bit to gather up his hair. 

“Yeah,” Otabek agreed quietly. Seeing only his boots, Yuri couldn’t tell what distracted him but the feel of his eyes was back and laser focused. It was gone in an instant when Yuri popped back up, badly securing his locks in a messy, tangled nest. 

“What?” he questioned. Otabek responded with a nonchalant shrug. “Is it... uh,” self consciously turning away, Yuri halfheartedly fixed his bun, tucking away the longer, more distracting fly aways. “Yeah I know it's a little long, I was thinking about cutting—”

“Don’t,” Otabek cut him off, coming off much more harshly than he meant. Yuri jolted involuntarily. “I'm sorry, I'm just... at a loss for words.” Otabek was steady and grounded, but Yuri was rapidly growing unstable. It was more than his body could handle, but he liked it. Every emotion he’d forgotten how to feel rushed back all at once. 

“Uh, I'm sorry about earlier. In the car. And just now, also, I... guess. I panic sometimes. It usually goes away pretty fast, I don’t know. I… I never really thought about what would happen if you… I guess I just assumed... It’s just been so long…” 

The wind left his lungs, cutting him off mid-ramble as Otabek pulled him into a tight hug. “Too long,” he agreed softly, the velvety baritone of his voice thrumming through Yuri’s chest. With nothing but t-shirts between them, Yuri could feel the full force of his strength warming the darkest corners of his being. He clung to broad shoulders as the numbness in his limbs finally started to break. Starting at his fingertips Yuri could sense Otabek’s movements, could feel the air shifting. It was like coming out of a deep sleep and seeing the world again in a new light. 

“Sit down,” Otabek instructed when Yuri could barely support his own weight. He swayed on his feet. “Let me look at you.” Wanting to peel away to assess the situation, Otabek loosened his grip, but Yuri constricted like a snake. Otabek guided him back into the living room with his eye on the sofa. They held each other in silence for a while. Even after Yuri allowed them to separate, his hands still lingered on Otabek’s neck and shoulders. 

“Jet lagged?” Yuri guessed. He studied the crease between Otabek’s brows, hesitantly traced the dark circles under his eyes. Otabek was still, letting Yuri explore as he liked. He shook his head in reply. “You look so tired,” Yuri mused, “Where have you been?” 

“All over,” a vague answer. The way he shamelessly stared at Yuri’s lips distracted from it. A foggy look paired nicely with the peachy blush that bloomed across the bridge of Yuri’s nose. He swallowed. “What about you?” Otabek asked. 

“Waiting for you to come back.” Yuri sat up a little, turning his body to face Otabek head on. A wave of nervousness sent a tremor up his spine, but he raised both hands to cup Otabek’s face, mirroring the way his own was held close with a soft touch. It was a way to keep him still and satisfy a subconscious worry that he would disappear completely and Yuri would be alone again. “I'm still basically the same…” he promised, “just...” 

Yuri pressed a feather-light kiss to his bottom lip, then the top, and one more quick peck before he was trembling again. Yuri’s veins felt like live wires. He was whisked back in time to the first time he’d felt Otabek’s lips on his, the first time he’d felt anything like that. He didn’t remember them being so soft. The initial shock died down, and for a second nothing happened. Otabek was as still as a statue. Yuri’s hands were vibrating against Otabek’s skin and when he suddenly realized that he might’ve overstepped his boundaries Yuri felt the greatest rush of his life come and go all too quickly. 

Yuri whispered fragmented apologies in his retreat, abruptly stopped in his tracks by a firm grip on his hair that took his breath away. He was waiting, staring into Yuri’s eyes for an infinite moment, patiently standing by for Yuri to decide whether or not he’d made an impulsive mistake. When he didn’t pull away, Otabek leaned in and sealed them back together. 

With every light suck at Yuri’s lips he relaxed just a little more until his mind went blank. He dropped his jaw and made room for Otabek to explore his mouth, the bold taste of a recent shot of scotch dancing along Yuri’s tongue. Otabek tasted just as he smelled, like sandalwood and vaguely of leather. The more Yuri had the more he craved. They swirled their tongues in numbingly sensual strokes. Time slowed to a stop. Yuri melted with quiet hums and sighs of approval. He was coming apart in Otabek’s hands with every calculated stroke of his tongue. He’d imagined this, had dreams about it even, but real life was more than he could expect with plush lips moving in slow rolls against his. Hands buried in dark hair tugged lightly at the roots. Their pace was leisurely and thorough with no struggle for the upper hand. 

Years of hollowness built up to this, this cloying feeling of coming home. Yuri’s life felt real. Everything he’d done, everything he was and had become, was to get to this point, was to be good enough for when Otabek returned to him. He’d had thousands of meaningless exchanges with hundreds of people, but swapping spit with surrogate lovers couldn’t prepare him for the warmth that filled his heart now. 

Yuri played the pliant, lilting angel very well. Gentle laps of his tongue proved no match against the heaviness Otabek chose to handle him with. It was forcing Yuri to lean backward and he was doing it on purpose, pulling away just so as if to catch his breath. Otabek chased him, gently nipping Yuri’s lower lip with a low rumble playing deep in his throat. He wove his fingers tightly in Yuri’s hair. A subtle tug at the back of Otabek’s neck and a sharp moan into his mouth did the trick. With brute force a little more abrupt than he’d intended, Otabek yanked Yuri forward until the backs of Yuri's thighs framed his hips and Yuri purred his approval. 

The sound of a door kicking open was drowned out by a rumbling deep in Otabek’s chest and a hiss through Yuri’s teeth. The front door was still wide open. 

Otabek followed every vertebrae in Yuri’s spine as it curled downward against the couch, squeezing handfuls of the flesh of his belly until his shirt was hiked up to his armpits and his back was flat against the cushions. The cotton, as thin as it was, constricted Yuri around his chest and he was quick to rid himself of it, pulling free his tangled hair as he went. He found home in the way Otabek fit perfectly between his legs, the way big hands searched his skin, and the way he went right for the throat. 

Yuri’s heel came to rest right in the dip of the small of Otabek’s back, encouraging his hips down and forward. Then all of his air was knocked right out of him, because he could feel Otabek's cock through his pants rubbing against him. He blinked away the static clouding his vision and ground their hips together. Otabek half steadied himself with a hand exploring Yuri’s chest. His abs clenched to hold his weight. Yuri’s spine curved with a gasp as one of his nipples was inadvertently brushed and prodded, and he felt the tension running all through Otabek’s body. Yuri had handfuls of his shirt pulled up over his back. When a particularly rough sound traveled up Yuri’s throat, Otabek abruptly broke the kiss. They were breathless. Otabek’s fingers framed Yuri’s belt, subtly dipping into the waistline of his pants. Looking into his eyes, Yuri nodded his head and shyly shuffled his hips. 

“Let’s go out,” Otabek blindly suggested, voice edging on a low growl. Yuri didn’t quite register his words for a few long seconds, his eyes blown black and lips pouting and bruised bright red. After a theatre minute of tense silence, Yuri squinted his eyes. 

“You can’t be serious.” Yuri waited for the punchline, but Otabek wasn't joking. He rolled back onto his side of the couch, leaving Yuri to stare at the ceiling in utter bewilderment. 

“Let’s go. We’ll get coffee or something.” 

Just before Otabek could stand and make his getaway, Yuri shot up to a sitting position and trapped Otabek against the arm of the couch, marking the second time Otabek had to witness that fierce glint in Yuri’s eyes up close and leveled right at him. The first was all those years ago in Barcelona. He didn’t resist when Yuri settled in on top of him, taken with the feel of jutting hips filling his hands. 

“How long are you going to make me wait?” Yuri plainly denied Otabek’s offer of coffee. The dwindling light turned his hair gold as it framed his face, but his eyes shone brighter with stubborn dominance. He held Otabek close with one hand on his neck and the other sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. “How long, Beka?” Yuri readjusted in his lap to wedge his thigh between Otabek’s legs. He response was almost immediate, a vice grip constricting his waist. “Another day? Another week? ...Five more years?” 

Gently rocking back and forth, Yuri watched for any cracks in Otabek’s facade. He was grinding his teeth. It made him so hard he was practically bursting at the seams. His pelvis moved almost uncontrollably, kneading his dick into a strong, tense thigh. “I’m _ready_ , Beka,” he let mounting desperation work color into his words, “I’ve been ready. I know I was too young before, but I’m not a little kid anymore.” He exhaled a shuddering breath and connected their foreheads. “You promised me you’d come back and you did,” he whispered, “...touch me.” 

Yuri let out a gasp of a moan when he felt a pair of large hands caress his back, gently mapping it all out and trying to keep tame. Otabek was breathing hard, his teeth bared as he relished in the feel of the perfectly soft skin. Digging underneath Yuri’s belt, much looser than how he usually wore it, Otabek smoothed his palms over his bare skin to give it an unhinged squeeze. Lifting Yuri right out of place, Otabek replaced him right where he wanted him, thighs spread wide over his enormous cock was trying to stick straight up, feeling pained and trapped under his clothes. Yuri felt a violent, decisive thrust slide against his length, dragging up and down and hard enough to make him gladly hand over the control with a helpless whimper. Yuri scrambled for a solid grip, matching the rhythm they fell into. 

Under the weight of Yuri’s heart-shaped ass to rub against, Otabek bucked his hips up into him and their erections rubbed directly on top of one another. Yuri had one hand clutching the back of Otabek’s neck and the other gripping his thigh for dear life as he rocked up and down and in broken circular motions. Otabek gripped tighter onto Yuri's hips, making Yuri keenly aware of his dick slipping through the slick coating his legs and soaking through his underwear. 

Yuri purred happily, tossed his head, chewed his lip, and whispered all the praise and nothings built up in his subconscious, things he’s never said. His nails curled into the flesh of Otabek’s shoulders. He could feel that thick cock begging to be free as he circled his ass all around it in a seductive, teasing motion of sex that made it impossible for Otabek not to imagine Yuri riding him. His eyes were screwed up tight and Yuri was both sad and thankful. He wouldn’t survive whatever thoughts they held in. 

He shuddered as he ground against a thick bulge he’d dreamt of since he was a teenager. The imagery flashing through his mind’s eye amplified the electric shocks running all along his skin but every time he slipped into fantasy, Otabek would let out a strangled growl through his teeth that returned him to the present. With his pants still on, he frotted himself dangerously close to the edge, groaning every time Otabek kneaded his ass or scraped his teeth over his throat. 

“God, don’t stop,” Yuri moaned into Otabek's ear when he felt a surge of heat shooting through his abdomen. “I’ve waited for so long–” The lips mouthing at his throat abruptly kissed off of his skin with a pop. Otabek’s hold on his body loosened. “Please, I’m so close–” Yuri could barely choke out before Otabek moved him off his lap, pushing him away right at the last second. “Oh, you _motherfucker!_ ” Yuri growled low in his throat, heaving ragged breaths, “you fucking… oh, you son of a bitch. I don’t like being teased!” 

“You don’t?” Otabek questioned and immediately regretted that lapse in judgement. He played right into Yuri’s hands. 

“No, I don’t.” In the face of what he wanted most nearly taken away from him, Otabek could sense the fear and growing desperation making Yuri shake again. _Hungry_ was the only appropriate descriptor for the way Yuri kissed him now, fervent and insatiable no matter how much Otabek tried to lend himself over. Yuri could feel him hitting a wall, he was freezing over. 

“Stop,” Otabek deadpanned, “Yuri, we have to stop.” Yuri involuntarily tightened his grip on his shoulders like he could stop Otabek from slipping away, whining low in the back of his throat. The living room was silent save their ragged breathing. His legs were straining and Yuri couldn’t help an uncomfortable wiggle. Otabek grabbed him by the waist so tight Yuri gasped. “Don’t move,” he hissed, “just– just don’t.” 

Slowly, the tension bled free and Otabek set Yuri further back in his lap. He could feel the tremors vibrating along Yuri’s skin. Gold hair fell over his shoulders. His chest heaved with labored breath. His abs clenched and unclenched indecisively, wanting move into action and to obey the command to stay still at the same time. Though his skin was satiny smooth and baby soft, those muscles worked just under the surface. The seam that ran down his middle was interrupted by his navel and a light dusting of blond hair trailing down under his belt. Otabek huffed right over Yuri’s jugular to steady himself, breath gusting over Yuri’s skin and he knew it was making him crazy. His mouth was right over the adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His nipples were pink and pert and begging for attention. The hard on in his pants had hopefully gone down some, but he shivered like he was teetering right on the precipice and one wrong move would push him over the edge. 

“I can’t do this.” 

“ _No…_ ” 

Pushed away, Yuri’s shoulders made contact with the arm on the empty side of the couch. Otabek stood and scanned the floor for the jacket and scarf he arrived in. His bag was already waiting for him at the front door. 

“No, no, stop. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please just–” Yuri scrambled, catching Otabek’s wrist. He was kneeling, shoulders sloped inward in penitence. “We can wait,” he suggested, “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna rush you or anything. You set the pace. I’m just… I can’t believe you’re here.” 

Even with his back to him, Yuri could tell that the cogs were turning in Otabek’s brain. He hoped his touch would find him some peace the way Otabek had done for him without intention. Yuri patiently waited until Otabek was ready to face him, a small smile involuntarily gracing his face when he did. All was still, Otabek standing an arm’s length away, tethered to the couch by Yuri’s outreached hand that had found it’s way into his. Unable to take his eyes from Yuri’s face, Otabek knelt down, retrieving something off the floor. Half hidden under the couch was Yuri’s white t-shirt. Otabek offered it to Yuri with the ends of his fingers. The smile fell from Yuri’s lips. After an awkward bout of silence, Yuri reluctantly accepted it, realizing that Otabek wouldn’t speak again until he was covered. Their hands disconnected. 

“It’s nothing personal, I mean– You’re very kind, you’re sweet, very…” Green eyes cast up over a pink tipped ski slope nose. Yuri’s lips were swollen and raw, and the completed picture made the words catch in Otabek’s throat. “Very attractive...” Yuri leaned forward, his tongue lapped over his bottom lip hopefully. “I just can’t,” Otabek concluded beyond a shadow of a doubt. Yuri blinked, lost in thought as Otabek resettled into the couch. “Yuri,” he sighed, “I haven’t been honest with you about what I’ve been doing.” 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Yuri excused him in a small voice. His eyes were cast down. “I know I’ve done things I’m not proud of.” The sound of his voice seemed far away in his own head. It echoed off the walls, hollow and empty. The need to be sick grew in his belly, it made him sweat. 

“You need to know the truth.” Otabek chose his words carefully but Yuri was already shrinking away to the opposite end of the couch. “I’ve been back in Russia three times since the Grand Prix Finals.” Yuri’s stomach sank. “I’m meeting someone else here in a few days.” Yuri gaped but all words fell dead on his tongue. He said nothing. “My girlfriend,” Otabek admitted, “I have a pretty serious girlfriend.” 

Yuri choked on his heart as it jumped into his throat. His eyes were closed but that didn’t mask the stark horror projecting right from his soul. Yuri wasn’t breathing. He avoided Otabek’s gaze at all costs, spine curling with his head in his hands, face obscured by his hair. 

“This didn’t happen,” Otabek reasoned, “it meant nothing, it was just a mistake.” He deleted the last few minutes from his truth and tried to convince Yuri to do the same. But Yuri couldn’t deny what happened, nor could he deny the fresh wound in his chest. 

“A mistake…” he all but whimpered, “You said you’d come back and I believed you. You had to have known that. You had to have known that would mean something to me.” 

Otabek spoke right on top of him, hastily clearing his name, “you were just a kid, Yuri, I couldn’t–” 

“You said you’d come back to me.” Swollen with tears, Yuri’s eyes were hypnotic. His sadness was pervasive. “You promised…” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you. It was never my–”

“When?” Yuri hissed through his teeth, stealing Otabek’s voice right out of his mouth. “When _exactly_ did you come back?” He gaped speechlessly for a moment. “Tell me,” Yuri ground out, “just fucking tell me…” he begged weakly. 

“Uh… Most recently, a little over a year ago. March, I think.” Otabek gritted his teeth, listening as Yuri began to sob. He recalled it well. “Your nineteenth–” 

“Stop, stop, I can’t take it anymore.” 

Otabek wrung his hands. “I thought you’d forget about me,” explained lowly. 

“How could I? You were the first friend I’ve ever had, the first person to ever listen to me, the first person I’ve ever cared about. I’ve been all by myself, waiting for you for as long as I could.” A hand came to rest on Yuri’s wrist, shyly easing up into his own. “No,” he resisted Otabek’s touch, tearing out of his grasp, “Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me.” Otabek edged in a little closer, trying to meet Yuri’s gaze. “I had no one. I had no choice. I did my best but it wasn’t enough… I’m weak, I’m so weak, I didn’t know...” Hesitant for a moment, Otabek slipped a strand of hair behind Yuri’s ear, making it easier for him to see his face and harder for Yuri to avoid him. Yuri flinched and flicked his eyes up in Otabek’s general direction but not all the way up to his eyes. “How long?” he questioned flatly. 

Yuri felt cold to the touch, like he would be sick at any moment, like he could double over and vomit at the very next words out of Otabek’s mouth. But he needed to know. He deserved to know. Otabek took a breath and guiltily replied, “four years… Almost five.” He snaked an arm over Yuri’s shoulder, holding him as he wept. Minutes felt like hours. They stayed like that until Yuri had just about exhausted himself. Then Otabek tentatively spoke. “But, you moved on too,” he pointed out, “I’m not the only one.” Disbelieving his own ears, Yuri sat up to look at Otabek’s face. 

“What…?” he asked, thin and ghostly. He was pale white. He backed out of Otabek’s embrace. “What did you say…?” 

“You couldn’t wait, you found someone else. You _did–_ ” Otabek’s practiced indifference broke and his eyes widened and he swore he could smell the fires of Hell.

“Fuck you…” Yuri condemned. He rose to his feet, staggering backward. “Fuck you!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, shaking hands scrubbing over his face and hair. “How dare you? You don’t know! You weren’t there! You didn’t have to–” he choked on the growing lump in his throat. He swallowed against the pressure, tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He all but raced out of the living room without a word. He made a beeline for the front door, but took an abrupt detour after a split second of thought. He swiped the Altoids tin and tucked it away. Otabek stood and caught him by the wrist, yanking him in close like a rag doll but Yuri had stopped listening no matter how much Otabek tried to talk him down. The pills in his back pocket shook loudly but he couldn’t hear it and Otabek wouldn’t dare ask about the sound it made.

“Yuri, just– Look at me.” Otabek closed his hand around Yuri’s jaw and forced their eyes to meet. The pressure around his neck made his lips part and he moaned softly, but his expression was blank. “You’re safe, right?” Otabek had to ask. He could tell Yuri wanted to roll his eyes. “I’m not leaving until you make me believe you’ll be safe.” Yuri remained defiantly silent. “God–” Otabek snarled, “Yuri, I can’t read your mind. I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”

Yuri could barely get the words out. “Just that my entire adult life is a lie. It didn’t even matter, nothing, none of it mattered.” _He was never coming._ “I learned from the best.” _He was never coming._ “Lock the door when you leave.” _He was never coming_   
.  
“Wait,” Otabek chased him out into the corridor, following the sound of a steel door slamming shut. “Where are you going?” Otabek questioned from the top of the stairs, briefly noticing that Yuri deliberately avoid the elevator. 

Yuri replied, “I need a cigarette.” And after that, he was done with talking. Throwing his jacket back on and patting his pocket for his wallet and keys, Yuri swiftly turned on his heel and marched out of his apartment, leaving Otabek behind without so much as a passing glance. 

By the time he hit the landing on the fifth floor, Yuri had been skipping steps to fly down the stairs. Already exhausted even before he made it to the steps, he could barely breathe and he hit the wall across from the stairs with splayed hands. All of his weight hit him at once and he sank to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest in the corner of a cold stairway landing. 

Yuri wasn’t even entirely sure what had just happened. Thoughts swam through his mind and blurred together into their own distortions of the truth, but two things were clear. Otabek had a long term girlfriend, and Yuri was heartbroken. He remembered why he’d forced himself to stop thinking about Otabek so long ago, choosing instead to throw himself into his work. Yuri experienced a deep physical pain when Otabek wasn’t near. When Yuri needed him most he wasn’t there. When the fantasy of Otabek’s return was the only thing keeping him going he wasn’t there. He was never going to be, and now Yuri knew why. 

Barely adjusting when sitting became gradually uncomfortable, Yuri rediscovered the Altoids tin he hastily jammed in his pocket. With quaking hands and a runny nose, he pulled it out and searched for as many pills of the same size and shape as he had patience for, finding five round pills that would put him out for at least a day. Whoever found him in the stairwell would be met with a rather unpleasant sight, but anything that would stop him from thinking was worth the embarrassment. He couldn’t make it all the way outside for cigarettes. 

The echo of heavy footsteps made Yuri jump out of his skin. 

“Go away!” he shouted at some unknown person somewhere in the stairwell. They were getting closer and Yuri couldn’t tell which direction they were coming from. He squeezed his hand shut around the meds he hadn’t hand the chance to dry-swallow yet and stuck the tin back into his pocket. The footsteps matched the aching thud of his heart as it beat out of his chest. To avoid letting anyone see him like this, Yuri hid his face. 

A smallish paper box dropped onto the floor at his side. “Special delivery.” When Yuri uncovered his eyes, familiar letters jumped out at him. _КУРЕНИЕ УБИВАЕТ_

Karl took a seat next to Yuri on the floor, respectfully averting his eyes. When Yuri struggled to fish out a cigarette, he noticed a dangerous amount of Vicodin in the palm of Yuri’s hand. Karl swiped the pack right out of his grasp. 

“If you want these, you’ll put four of those pills back.” Yuri grudgingly obeyed but not without a defiant scowl. One pill made it into his mouth and he swallowed thickly, feeling it sink to the pit of his stomach. And only when Karl was sure he wouldn’t try to sneak another did he let Yuri smoke. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Yuri shook his head, focusing on willing the pill to work faster. Karl sighed, frowning at the tear stains on Yuri’s cheeks. “Wanna get out of here for a while?” Yuri nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette. 

The two of them made their way down the remaining four flights of stairs, stepping out into the world with Karl’s arm squeezing Yuri to him. People saw, some people took none too subtle photos, but Yuri couldn’t find it in himself to care.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK?! NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH 
> 
> (unedited cuz i couldn't wait and my beta ghosted me)

The sun disappeared behind the rooftops. Stars awakened and speckled the sky with twinkling light. Nine-to-fivers hung their hats and the night owls stretched their wings. But Yuri never came home. When the moon rose overhead, Otabek tried his cell phone. The dial tone rang and rang but Yuri never answered. Calling him wouldn’t help, his phone was broken. Yuri was completely disconnected, but that didn’t stop Otabek from forgetting about the broken phone two hours later and calling him again.

He paced. His heart pounded. He threw on his jacket and lunged at the door. He tore out into the hallway but he couldn’t leave the house. Fuming, he slammed the door so hard the sliding glass to the balcony shook. He stepped out. He emptied his pockets out onto the small table and fell heavily into a chair. He snarled as he fought with an old lighter he carried around like a rabbit’s foot, sharp canines piercing the filter at the end of his last cigarette. His hands were too big, too indelicate. He hissed out a cloud of smoke and watched it float away over the city lights. 

He thought about calling Victor. Victor, not only as Yuri’s manager but as his friend, teacher, and guardian, would know what to do. He would know which holes Yuri liked to hide in, which people he mixed with and ran to when he needed them. Otabek couldn’t leave the house, not if Yuri was out and off the grid. He needed to be there when Yuri returned. But the anxiety made his blood boil. Not being able to go out and rescue him made his skin crawl. He was restless, he needed to be moving, he needed to be useful. He wanted to call Victor, to be given some sort of task, something for him to do. But Yuri was an adult and Otabek was no snitch. Calling Victor wasn’t an option. He sighed a cloud of smoke. 

The third time he hopelessly typed in Yuri’s number the dial stopped immediately. His call was declined, the line wasn’t busy. Yuri had replaced his phone, which meant that he was safe and lucid enough to make that transaction. Witching hour came and went and still no sign of him. 

_I know I’ve done things I’m not proud of… I had no one. I had no choice. I did my best but it wasn’t enough…_

It could’ve meant anything. Anything spanning from innocent laziness and lack of respect for authority to irreversible decisions made by or for him. Otabek’s imagination sank into a dark, nightmarish place. There were plenty of shady places to go in the dead of night where Yuri could choose from a motley of dangerous activities. Otabek had put him in a precarious position, Yuri was in no condition to make rational decisions. When it came down to it, Otabek was responsible for anything that Yuri might do to himself. The night only grew darker as time passed. 

The soft click of the door closing was enough to rouse him from a weak nap. Otabek had dozed off on the balcony sitting up and fully clothed, waiting for Yuri to come home. He barely felt the sting of the cold on his ears and nose as he returned to the warmth of the living room. The house was pitch black, but Otabek could sense clumsy steps towards the bedrooms slowly passing him. He could barely see a faint outline of Yuri’s hand on the wall where he braced himself through a dizzy spell. 

“Yuri,” Otabek called out to him. Even in the darkness, those eyes shone with irritation so penetrating that Otabek stopped in his tracks. 

“You’re still here?” Yuri slurred spitefully. He waved his free hand in the direction of the front door, already halfway given up on the subject. “Go home, Karl. I said no.” 

Karl. Who’s Karl?

“Yuri,” Otabek grabbed him before he could escape, “Yuri, it’s me.” Yuri whirled around, losing his balance and falling back against the doorframe. He never lost that annoyed glint in his eyes.

“God,” he groaned, “you really are a pathetic slut.” Before Otabek could screw up his face in confusion, Yuri had him by the back of the neck and pressed an uncoordinated kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Now go home,” Yuri commanded sharply. He cursed under his breath and found his way to his bedroom where he collapsed into his bed without so much as taking his boots off. 

Otabek was stunned for a moment. Swiping his tongue over his lower lip sent a shock up his spine at an unsettlingly concentrated taste of shitty bathtub vodka Yuri had gotten his hands on. Otabek peered into Yuri’s bedroom where it seemed that Yuri had passed out almost immediately. Otabek couldn’t leave him like that, so he carefully slipped off Yuri’s boots and rolled him further onto the bed so he could be comfortable. Dragging a chair in from the living room, Otabek settled in for the remainder of the night, giving Yuri space but watching over him just in case. 

By the time the sun began its weak campaign against the clouds, Yuri had disappeared from his bed. The door was left wide open. Otabek woke with a start. He focused his hearing, concentrating through the silence until he picked up on the soft rustle of a scarf winding around and around. He soundlessly rose from his chair and padded out of the room. He prowled through the living room as Yuri slipped his feet into his boots. Otabek waited for the right moment and pounced when Yuri had his back to him.

“Stop.” 

His voice rumbled through the dead quiet of the sleeping house. Yuri froze, facing the front door. Otabek was somewhere behind him, shrouded in void darkness. Escape was nigh impossible. Otabek advanced with heavy steps against the wood floors. The falling of his feet made Yuri flinch, but he didn’t break. His head was swimming, his vision a blurry tango. A firm hand on his shoulder turned him right around, jostling him gently but it was enough to send him into a dizzy spell. His stomach pitched and his back met the door. Yuri ground his teeth to keep standing, stubbornly glaring into Otabek’s eyes. Otabek huffed, face contorting into a disgusted grimace. 

“Jesus, Yuri, you smell like liquor.” Yuri’s brows raised over lazily lidded eyes. He swayed on his feet. Otabek steadied him with a stony grip on his waist. Yuri’s right hand snaked up through the hair at the nape of his neck. He leaned in nice and close, exhaling a noxious cloud of humid vodka vapor and the smell of unbrushed teeth. Otabek bristled. 

“Her name,” Yuri demanded simply. 

Otabek took a breath, “go back to bed, Yuri. You’re in no condition to–”

“No, no, shut up,” Yuri interjected with a slow shake of his head, he sputtered and ineffectively batted his hair from his eyes. “This is my motherfuckin’ house and I’ll do what I want.” His words cared no bite, teeth dulled by the way his knees gave up and sent him straight down. Otabek caught him at the last second, hoisting him up until they were chest to chest. “You’re not the boss of me, I don’t fucking– I don’t…” he lost his train of thought, babbling jumbled slurs with no discernable meaning. He went quiet and stubbornly resisted Otabek’s help. “No!” He shoved him off and staggered backwards until his back hit the door. Otabek stood five feet away, fists curling to stave off frustration. 

“Yuri,” Otabek started slow, leveling out his tone and calling on practiced patience to help him calm down. “You’ve been out all night. You need to sleep this off and–” 

“If you don’t like it, go away,” Yuri fumed with his voice raised. He snarled, teeth fully exposed in warning. “You could’ve stayed at the hotel, but you came back to _my_ house. You gave me all this hope and, and– just–” Yuri shook his head to loosen up all the things he wanted to say. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes, raking his fingers up through his hair then down behind his ears to his neck. “God, you don’t– you don’t even know what I had to go through.” His voice thinned out. In the low light, Otabek watched the tip of Yuri’s nose turn pink and start to run. “It’s all fucked up. It’s bullshit, everything’s bullshit.” 

Otabek tried to close the gap between them in deliberate steps. He remained guiltily silent, forcing himself to watch Yuri stifle angry tears. He raised a hand to clear the wisps that clung to Yuri’s face, but he was swatted away. Mumbling curses under his breath, Yuri shoved Otabek away, far enough to get the door open. 

“Even you,” Yuri spat venomously, “you’re bullshit too.” Seconds before he could get his foot out the door, it slammed right in his face. A wide palm held it shut, planted right next to Yuri’s face. He startled, then glared over his shoulder. “Is that the best you can do?” he mocked, “you think a little noise is gonna scare me?” He turned around, bracing himself on the doorframe. They stood toe to toe, so close they could share a breath. “There’s nothing you could do that I haven’t already lived through.” 

Otabek’s jaw was locked up tight. He inhaled deeply and ground his teeth. “Come right home tonight,” he ordered firmly, “I expect you here no later than midnight.” Yuri narrowed his eyes.

“Or what?” he challenged lowly. He used his height to stand right over him, forcing Otabek to tilt his head up to meet his gaze. “You’ll punish me?” He advanced, his hair brushing over Otabek’s face. “Do you punish her?”

“Watch your mouth.” 

“Believe me, I do,” Yuri drawled, foul breath as repugnant as his tone. He swept his bladed tongue over his teeth as he smiled. “It looks good _wide_ open.” Otabek was chomping at the bit, screwing his eyes shut to center himself. “You buried yourself in the first cunt you could find while I was stuck here,” Yuri prodded, “I waited for you. I was choking on the smoke everything went up in. And you… you choked _her_ with–” 

The impact took his breath away. Pinned to the front door, Yuri had a second to steady his breath before he lost it again. Sliding down the side of his face, the pad of Otabek’s thumb dipped between parted lips to feel the quick rabbity breaths as they passed. It tugged at the plush pout of Yuri’s lower lip, outlined the curve of his chin, swept across his jaw, and poised over the adam’s apple bobbing nervously in Yuri’s throat. Otabek huffed noisily through his nose over the shaky breaths that escaped through Yuri’s mouth. He stood perfectly still, exposed to the inferno burning up in Otabek’s chest and blazing in his eyes. 

“Home. Midnight. Sober,” he growled in a tone that would only accept immediate submission for an answer. Yuri swallowed thickly around the vice around his neck, unyielding and unforgettable. Yuri should’ve been scared or offended, but he swallowed a breathy whine.   
Yuri’s eyes were wide. He barely found it in him to nod in agreement. The clamping grip loosened, Otabek seemed satisfied with the answer. Yuri’s heart jumped into his throat. 

“Tighter,” he blurted out, “...tighter.” Yuri could only whisper through a full body shudder. The pressure on his windpipe grew just a fraction, an involuntary flex around his throat. Otabek’s eyes narrowed and darkened in contemplation and something changed in Yuri’s demeanor. He softened. 

His blood surged in his veins, red and hot just under his skin. A ghost of a whimper escaped from Yuri’s throat, vibrating against Otabek’s palm. He felt the rush of air exiting hotly through Yuri’s nose. When his lungs fully deflated, Otabek gradually cut off all oxygen. The thrill of it colored Yuri’s cheeks bright pink. His lips parted as if to panic. His throat worked around the steel grip pinning him down. Every inch of him was alive, the surface of his skin active with static. Otabek wore a mean, punishing look on his face. Yuri’s mouth flooded with saliva. His lashes dipped. His eyes rolled back. Then he was abruptly released. A surge of electricity shot up his spine with such raw intensity that it rendered him breathless yet again.

Yuri blinked slowly, processing the jolt that just went through him. Never before had getting in trouble made his heart race like that. He could still feel that grip forcing him flush to the door. He lifted his bleary gaze from the floor as he gasped for air. Otabek had retreated, putting distance between them. He faced away, raked his hands through his hair. 

Yuri swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. “...Bullshit,” he mumbled lowly. He stepped out of the apartment and closed the door. 

At a quarter past three, the scrape of keys missing the lock echoed through the house. Otabek was alert and silently padding into the living room when it flooded with light and two bodies entered the apartment. Utilizing quick reflexes, Otabek slipped back into the guest room, watching two men as they spoke in hushed voices. 

“You need a bath. You need fluids, rest, let me help you–”

“You’ve done enough.” 

“You… You told me to… Yuri, I’m–” 

“Get out of my sight.”

A lithe body barely made it into the bathroom, limping and leaning heavily into the wall for support. The figure that remained stood at a loss for a moment, then turned and exited the apartment altogether. The bathroom door clicked shut and Otabek took off, crossing the living room and throwing open the door. He missed the stranger by a half second. The elevator doors closed before he could see his face. Wrath rattled through his nerves and buzzed in his eardrums, but it would have to wait. He turned back into the house and calmly closed the door. 

A dangerous aura surrounded the bathroom. Tension rose with every step Otabek took. He hesitated before opening the door a mere inch and peeking through. What he saw made his blood boil. 

Yuri could barely stand. Spine curved up and over, his head hung like dead weight between his shoulders. Jarring fluorescent light reflected off of his naked skin. Raw patches of angry pink flesh splotched his back and ringed his hips. His muscles convulsed with exhaustion. One more second of exertion and they would give up. But he pushed on, hissing through his teeth as he worked. Pushing open the door just one more inch, Otabek watched as Yuri scooped out the remnants of a merciless ravaging. Wads of toilet paper littered the floor, some speckled with blood. The door hinges creaked. Yuri and Otabek made searing eye contact. 

“Go away,” he growled like a caged dog, eyes flashing crimson. Otabek didn’t move. The door swung open. “Get out,” Yuri warned. He stood up straighter, “Get the f…” The blood rushed to his head. His vision blurred. 

“Whoa.” Otabek caught him before he cracked his head open on the sink, “Jesus Christ.” 

Clutching his naked body as it sagged with the pull of gravity, Otabek hoisted Yuri up and wrapped an arm around his waist. He was too big to be babied, limbs too long. Otabek backed him up onto the sink as carefully as he could. Yuri hissed in sudden, shooting pain as he was urged to sit. It subsided in waves and the grimace contorting his features faded away. 

“What happened?” Otabek asked dumbly. Yuri’s eyes were glassy, rolling around in his head. “What did you do? Come on, Yuri, look at me, look at me.” Coddling him like a sick child, Otabek could feel his thin breath leaving him in small puffs and unmotivated sighs. “What’s wrong with you, tell me what’s wrong.” 

There were dark circles under Yuri’s eyes. Flawless skin was sheened with sweat, his hair stuck to his face. His mouth was bruised, lips parted around panted breaths because he couldn’t breathe through his nose. 

“God, help me,” Otabek exasperatedly prayed under his breath. He knew the stranger was long gone now and Yuri could barely look at him. He wasn’t drunk, or maybe he was, but this was different. Yuri was an irritable drunk. Sitting on the bathroom sink now, he was a zombie, barely responding to his own name. “Yuri,” Otabek tried to reach him, “who was that man with you? Try to remember, did he give you something?” Swinging forward, Yuri had to rest his head on Otabek’s shoulder to stay upright. It seemed to help him regulate his breathing. Before long, he could speak. 

“What is she like, Beka?” he slurred sourly. “Round doey eyes? Perky tits?” He shifted his weight and his head lolled forward. Steadied by Otabek’s immovable hold on him, Yuri lifted his bleary gaze. His tongue darted out of his mouth. “Pretty pink cocksucking lips?” 

Otabek swallowed, nearly losing his balance with how quickly his guard shot up. Yuri swayed in his place until the back of his head met the wall. His hair was a mess, tossed over his shoulders to leave his skin clear and unhindered from view. 

“She can’t get enough of it, can she?” Yuri saw him looking, the heat in his stare smoldered behind the filminess of his vision. Something cool and supple lapped at the back of Otabek’s hand, a satin bath robe. He thanked whatever God was watching and nearly tore it taking it down off the hook behind the door. 

“Sit up.” Yuri purred at any type of attention, even halted jerking as Otabek struggled to cover as much of him as possible. 

“I like it when you touch me,” he affirmed. A pitchy whine resounded in his head. Yuri squeezed his eyes shut with a groan and Otabek carefully leaned him back against the wall. When the roaring in his ears passed, he asked, “does she beg you? Does she plead for you to pound her pussy like I did? Like I’m doing now?” He was close enough to grab. Yuri wove himself around him like a vine. “Kiss me,” he dawled, digging his nails into Otabek’s shoulders when he tried to escape, “please, I can’t stand it.” 

Otabek fought it, eventually gathering Yuri’s wriggling wrists and holding him at bay. He struggled for a moment, then he tired and fell back onto the wall with a pathetic whimper. 

“You’re drunk,” Otabek forced him to understand, “you can’t make this choice... And neither can I.” 

“No, _you’re_ drunk,” he shifted the blame. He feverishly exhaled the humidity fogging his head, so dense he couldn’t think. It was stressing him out, making him sweat, making him cry. “I can’t take it anymore, Beka. I tried to stay away but I can’t, I– I’m…” He coughed. There was a low gurgle at the back of his throat. “I’m… I’m gonna…” 

Otabek had a split second to angle Yuri’s limp body towards the toilet with only a small, pathetic gurgle as a warning. Pouring the contents of his stomach into it, the stench of regurgitated alcohol filled the room. Otabek knelt beside him, sweeping his hair out of the way and gawking because there was just so much. Another wave of half digested vodka rushed into the toilet, violently expelled from Yuri’s body as he clung for dear life. 

“That’s it,” Otabek praised softly, “let it out.” Yuri coughed and groaned. “Is that all?” Yuri shook his head and spit up a final heave of vomit before he was finished. He shook like a leaf, looking like he could pass out at any moment. “Shh, feel better?” Otabek stilled light tremors racking Yuri’s back. “How much have you had?” 

“Ugh… maybe four lines of… ten or eleven shots and…” His hair was tied up out of his face. A warm hand rubbed between his shoulder blades. “Aw, are you gonna take care of me now?” Yuri still found it in himself to mock even after he spit the last of it into the toilet. “Is this a scene?” Otabek barely suppressed a groan. Yuri’s body punished his foul mouth with another heave that painfully strained already sore muscles. “I’m sick, Doctor. I’m hurting real bad.” Though still playful, Yuri was absolutely serious. 

“No, I’m–” Otabek immediately swallowed his tongue when he recognized an opening. He stood up a little straighter, put on an authoritative front, and took control. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he suggested, firmly but gently like a concerned doctor would, “what have you been doing to make yourself sick?” 

“I’m sad,” Yuri pulled the robe up onto his shoulders, the coldness of the house finally getting to him, “sometimes I get so sad I don’t know what to do with myself.” He was instructed to take his spot on the sink. When he was as comfortable as he could be, Otabek rifled through the bathroom and found a glass for water and a toothbrush. Yuri was able to rinse his mouth out and brush his teeth without provoking his stomach any further. Although, Yuri naughtily tested fate and scraped the back of his tongue with the toothbrush just to make a point. 

“What would you do with me?” he asked for the sake of the plot he imagined, “for the sadness…” His eyes were cloudy again, closing slowly and reluctantly popping open. 

“Describe these feelings,” Otabek inquired outside of his make believe jurisdiction. This wasn’t the type of _Doctor_ Yuri wanted to play. But still... “I need a better idea of what I’m dealing with.” Yuri was happy to explain. 

“It’s like I’m… I’m like twenty feet away from my body... watching some Peter Pan rail me like a fuckin’ ameteur. Feels good for a little while, then I’m… so empty I could die.” His voice grew softer and softer. 

“How long have you been–” _Seeing other men? How many are there?_ “How long has this been going on? How long have you felt this way?” A vague shrug was all Yuri had energy for. “I know what you need,” Otabek said to rouse him just enough to listen, “but first, tell me what you took.” 

“I…” Yuri rubbed his eyes like it would help him remember, but it was all dark. “I don’t know, Doc, it’s all white to me,” he replied disappointedly. “I don’t– I don’t... wanna play anymore.” 

No longer taking questions, Otabek thought it best that Yuri go to bed. He helped him stand, holding him close and catching him when he fell. When Yuri was safe and warm in his bed, Otabek resigned himself to the couch, staying close enough to hear if anything went wrong in the remainder of the night. Yuri protested as he always did, and insisted that Otabek spend the night with him. They lied down, but Yuri still wouldn’t settle. “Shh…” he tried to inspire some calm, but Yuri wasn’t having it. 

“Take this off,” Yuri flat out demanded. He shoved and clawed at Otabek’s t-shirt until he caved and pulled it off, tossing it on the floor. “Ugh, it’s like sandpaper.” He tossed uncomfortably and buried his nose into the warmth of Otabek’s chest. The muscles of his abdomen rippled and tensed, gradually releasing as Yuri breathed light and steady breaths. “Much better,” he mused, exerting himself one last time to press a tender kiss right under Otabek’s chin. “Goodnight,” he whispered, and he was out like a light. 

Otabek’s hand alighted in the cascade of hair falling loosely into his lap and tenderly smoothed it out. He stayed perfectly still, staring at the ceiling. The sun would come up in a few hours, he tried to stick it out until morning, but he was bone tired after days of stressing out. He dozed off after fifteen minutes of peaceful quiet. 

“Mm… God, my head.” 

Otabek awoke with a start, groggily rubbing his face. Yuri was sitting up, barely keeping upright. 

“What the fuck–” 

“What’s going on?” Otabek questioned in the dark. He reached out to pat Yuri’s back, rubbing in soothing circles. “Feeling okay?” 

“B– I mean– Otabek, why are you naked? What’re you–” Yuri lurched out of Otabek’s reach, moreso shocked and confused as to where he was. The abrupt movement tossed his stomach and a sickly groan gurgled from his throat. “I’m sorry, I thought this was…” He squinted his eyes to adjust them to the lack of light. This _was_ his bedroom. “Wait…” He searched until his head ached but he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. The last few days had been a blur, but the sunset was the last thing he could remember of today at all. It was black after that. “What’s happening here? Did we…?” 

“You wouldn’t go to bed by yourself,” Otabek explained. He threw a hand up in defeat and heavily leaned on the other to stay sitting up. “Yuri, I’m tired. Just tell me what to do to make you sleep.”

“Oh– you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, I mean… I mean, that’s– this was an accident, I’m–” His stomach churned angrily and Yuri groaned at the pain wracking his body and mind. He was avoiding this, avoiding any contact with Otabek at all. He’d done so well for the last few days and now here he was, half naked and comfortable in Yuri’s bed. This isn’t what he wanted. It’s _exactly_ what he wanted. 

He let himself be coaxed into a flatter position and his stomach seemed to agree with the shift in gravity. It gave one final pitch and Yuri grimaced. Otabek was the one to make a sound, huffing in surprise when Yuri’s nails came out over his ribcage. 

“I’ll stay, it’s no big deal,” Otabek dispelled, his voice low and hoarse. “Just go to sleep.” His eyes were already closed. Yuri wondered what time it was. He settled in over Otabek’s heart and stared straight ahead. He put all of his energy into staying still when all of the sudden blunt fingernails scraped along his scalp. He purred and visibly relaxed, his lashes lidding his eyes. 

“How do you keep it so soft?” Otabek ran his fingers through silken strands of hair, enjoying the way Yuri’s breathing evened out into a long, calm rhythm. 

“I don’t usually let people touch it.” Otabek moved his hand out of Yuri’s hair with an apology on his lips. “But you can,” Yuri quickly protested. “You can. I like it.” Yuri’s eyes slipped shut and Otabek raked his nails over his scalp. “Feels nice…” Yuri could hear Otabek’s heart beating slow and steady, lulling him further into sleep. “I want you, Beka.” Yuri hummed sleepily, “...want you bad.” 

“Why…?” Otabek questioned after intense contemplation. Yuri’s breath gusted over his bare skin, his stomach was pressed against his side and their legs tangled together. The serene look on Yuri’s face brought a twinge of guilt to Otabek’s heart. 

“Because…”Yuri sighed, trailing off into hushed sleepy whispers. “You just… get it. None of them were ever this nice to me.” 

“I don’t think I deserve that kind of wholesale… commitment…” Otabek trailed off. He decided to tell the truth. “I’m not that great of a person.” 

“Sure you do,” Yuri replied easily, “can’t be any worse than me.”

Otabek’s mind wandered far away as he idly stroked Yuri’s hair. He barely registered Yuri asking him a question. “Huh?”

“I said, can I ask you something?” Yuri repeated, words slurring together. “If I made it… if I held out just a little longer, would you have chosen me?” 

Before Otabek could give an answer, Yuri was asleep. Whether it be from the soothing hand playing with his hair or the several bad nights of sleep he’d gotten, he was out like a light. Otabek remembered how deeply Yuri could sleep and that much hadn’t changed. Hopefully he wouldn’t wake up again until morning. 

Yuri vanished at the crack of dawn. 

Otabek was a light sleeper. University had been a nightmare with all those people walking around over his head or in the alleyways at all hours, every creak of his tiny apartment woke him up. He’d slept like a rock with Yuri curled up in his arms, sapping warmth and comfort. It came so naturally. When Otabek finally awoke he was cold and alone, addled and crestfallen. 

Yuri didn’t return until well after midnight. Otabek only caught a glimpse of him before he stole away to his lair where Otabek dare not venture. It was surrounded in that vantablack aura that meant danger for anyone that passed through it.

Yuri was so quick to avoid him that Otabek swore he’d started seeing Yuri out of the corner of his eye, hallucinating at the mercy of sleep deprivation. He only managed to deter him the one time before he made off into the city. But today, he finally had him at a complete stop. He couldn’t escape, not with the keys to his car in Otabek’s hand. 

Yuri’s bedroom door popped open and Otabek went completely still. Fully dressed and slipping his arms into a coat, Yuri crept through the living room as silently as he could, not seeing Otabek sitting on the couch through the darkness. Yuri breezed right past him, making his way to the door. 

“Where are you going?” The sound of Otabek’s voice made his blood run cold. Yuri froze. 

“Out,” he replied shortly, “to… work.” 

“Work?” Otabek stood from the couch, his voice catching deep in his chest. “I’m coming with you.” Cursing under his breath, Yuri huffed and craned his neck back to stare at the ceiling. “Someone has to make sure you come home in one piece,” Otabek reasoned. Yuri opened his mouth to claim ignorance. “Don’t,” Otabek cut him off, “act like you don’t remember what happened. The condition you came home in.” Knowing full well that most of the past few nights were a blur for Yuri, the way he shuddered proved his recollection. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” Otabek warned, sounding more worried than anything else. Yuri spun slowly on his heels and Otabek could feel his eyes on him. Yuri matched the depth of his voice. 

“Judging by your tone,” Yuri started. Otabek couldn’t tell if it was a purr or a growl. “You’re not gonna like what you see.” 

Otabek let out a tense sigh. “You can’t leave without these,” he produced the keys. A dirty trick, under the surface of Yuri’s irritation he was impressed. “Unless _Karl_ is taking you...” he added as a heated afterthought. 

Yuri’s eyes widened, but not in guilt or paranoia. If Otabek knew about Karl, where he found that information was irrelevant. Yuri’s brow furrowed, then his eyes narrowed. 

“I can take my damn self to work, Otabek. I don’t need Karl. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. I don’t even need my car keys! Goodbye.” He turned to storm out. 

“Wait,” Otabek blurted before Yuri could slip away. Yuri stopped but he didn’t turn to see Otabek’s face. He waited with mocking obedience while Otabek rushed to think of something to say. He was silent as he ran his thoughts through every filter in his head. “I’m sorry,” Otabek sincerely apologized, “I should’ve told you. I should’ve told you years ago.” The word _years_ stung. Yuri’s shoulders lurched forward. 

“And?” Yuri questioned. Otabek looked confused. There was a pause. “What’s her fucking name?”

Staring at the door, Yuri felt a lump collect in his throat. He offered an opening, a way for Otabek to come back into Yuri’s life after being skillfully avoided for the better half of a week. It wasn’t what he really wanted, he wasn’t avoiding him to hurt him. Every time he spoke, Yuri was weak in the knees. Every time he touched him, he could feel the pull of gravity bringing them together. He knew Otabek sensed the spikes and the barbs that awaited anyone he mentioned by name, for anyone who stood between them. Yuri offered an opening but it required a sacrifice, it doubled as a way to snuff out what lied in his path. 

“She didn’t do anything,” Otabek weakly defended. Yuri bristled. “She’s innocent in this. You’re gonna tear her apart. Just leave her out of this. I’m the one you want.” 

Yuri took a breath, shoulders rising and falling as he forced himself to relax. “Yeah,” he stood up a little straighter and flicked on the lights. “You are.” Staring right into Otabek’s soul, Yuri wandered towards the couch, whipping out his phone like he expected to be waiting for a while. “Wear something nice,” Yuri instructed, casually plopping down in the middle of the couch. With his coat abandoned, Otabek could see that Yuri was dressed pretty sharp for sneaking around early in the morning. 

“Wow…” Yuri raised a brow. “You look great,” Otabek finished his thought. Yuri loosened a thin black tie around his neck, contrasting a crisp white shirt pressed to perfection. Long legs splayed outward as Yuri sank into the couch. 

“Hurry up,” Yuri ordered with his eyes glued to his phone, “I don’t have all day.” His haste seemed fair enough. “And–” Otabek turned to hear the last of what Yuri had to say, intrigued by the flush at the very end of Yuri’s nose. “Thanks. I guess.” 

Before he could catch himself, a smile spread across his face. “You’re welcome,” he replied. That half smile brightened Yuri’s eyes as Otabek met his gaze and any questions Otabek had fell to the back burner. He ducked into the bathroom, feeling the tension that filled the house for so long finally starting to let up. 

Showering in this apartment was a spiritual happening for a creature living paycheck to paycheck. Otabek wasn’t destitute, he was well off for a student thanks to his reputation in competitive figure skating. Though that life was over, he reaped the benefits of ad campaigns and occasional promotional appearances at events and competitions. He’d been offered positions as both coach and judge that became more and more inviting with time, but his income was pennies to Yuri Plisetsky at the prime of his life. 

Steam wafted lazily through the air. Otabek stood under the spray and let the heat of the water work free all the knots and strains in his neck and shoulders that hadn’t come loose after days of nonstop worry. He perused Yuri’s collection of soaps and salts for anything recognizable. Not that he thought of Yuri as a rich kid, but Otabek couldn’t even imagine him using some random eight-pack soap from the convenient store. He’d been so successful from such a young age that he probably never had to. Picturing Yuri as an ordinary twenty year old, going to school, having roommates, working some slave job to afford fast food, it was so opposite to reality that it was almost laughable. 

Though he was reluctant to leave, Otabek stepped out of the shower in a swath of fog. Wet inky hair fell just past his shoulders, seeming so much longer than it was since he tied it up so often. Admittedly, it’d grown out partly out of laziness. It was too thick to deal with in any meaningful way, that’s why he’d kept it short for the majority of his life. No one ever told him that if he let it grow it would be long enough to pull back. 

Peering through the crack in the door, Yuri strained his eyes after catching a glimpse of tan skin against the pristine, crisp white of the bathroom’s design– minimal and elegant like the rest of the house excluding his own bedroom. Steam billowed up over the shower door, fogging the glass and dampening the sound of a relieved groan as the heat worked free the tired knots in Otabek’s muscles. He was nothing more than a vague silhouette for Yuri to stare at with growing intensity. He stepped out of the shower and goosebumps erupted all across Yuri’s flesh. He raked a hand through wet hair much longer than Yuri had expected, it stirred something deep and hidden up into a frenzy but he was gone in a flash, disappearing behind the edge of the small slice Yuri could see into. 

“Can I borrow a razor?”

Otabek caught him red handed, seeing him through the mirror. 

“What?” Yuri asked without thinking. He couldn’t hear his own voice over the roaring in his ears. 

Hair. Of course, everyone had body hair, it’s normal. But still, it never even _occurred_ to him. Yuri had always soundly disapproved of his own body hair. Dishwater blonde hair just made him look dirty. He was quick to be rid of it. His face felt hot as he studied the crop of hair growing on Otabek’s chest, overcome with the need to touch. It didn’t seem… long enough? Thick enough? Yuri couldn’t even describe it, but something was off. The density of the hair on his chest didn’t match the tantalizing trail that lead down below the towel around his hips that Yuri actively worked to keep his sights away from. He so desperately wanted to map out the difference, in thickness, softness, texture… but there was a nagging feeling in his heart that he already knew, like a vivid dream he couldn’t recall. 

Thoughtfully rubbing the bristly growth on his cheeks and neck, Otabek waited for a response. It wasn’t unsightly, but he preferred to make first impressions with a clean face. He had no idea what kinds of people Yuri worked with.

“Um,” Yuri faltered. “Why– Why do you want it?” he questioned indignantly. 

“I’m like ten days out,” Otabek reasoned. 

In a daze, Yuri lost his footing and went silent, mouth gaping around words he couldn’t place. He guessed Otabek’s chest was at one point smooth, manscaped likely as per the request of his girlfriend. Yuri didn’t know whether to be disgusted or endeared by it, Otabek didn’t seem to care about his own appearance as long as he was clean. Was it sweet that he’d shave for the aesthetic of his significant other, or did that make Yuri hate her even more? He pouted in his spot on the couch. He’d never make Otabek change himself to fit his own preferences. 

“Stupid blind bitch,” he mumbled under his breath. Otabek’s brows raised just a fraction. “Top drawer,” Yuri quickly amended a little too loudly. Otabek thanked him with a nod, just so happening to close the bathroom door as he bent to search the drawer.

“Agh!” Yuri groaned. It was only a matter of minutes before Yuri stormed the bathroom in a huff. 

“What’s taking you so goddamn long?” He busted in on Otabek minding his own business, looking vaguely surprised and weilding a straight razor. Yuri’s confidence deflated in seconds. He awkwardly scanned the bathroom for a reason to be in there. “Why are my keys in here?” he interrogated, spotting them on the sink. He snatched them up and stuffed them in his pocket. 

“So you can’t escape,” Otabek replied, though he wasn’t bothered when his plan was foiled. With the keys in his possession, Yuri could leave at will. He knew he wouldn’t. 

Yuri was trapped. He could awkwardly turn around and walk out, but his shoes were glued to the floor. Otabek graciously pretended that everything was fine, but Yuri’s face was already red with embarrassment. He hovered near the bathroom door, bouncing back and forth between watching Otabek lather up and staring at the floor. 

“Nice ride,” Otabek made conversation as he worked, “It suits you, is it new?” 

After a moment of calculation Yuri shook his head. “I wanted a bike,” he admitted, “Victor said no,” he kicked the door with a stubborn harrumph, “I don’t know why he thinks he gets a say.” 

“Because he does.” Despite what he let on, Otabek knew Yuri cared what Victor thought. “Motorcycles are pretty dangerous. Cheaper, but dangerous.” 

“Win win,” Yuri conceded tartly. He’d been staring at his boots for a while now; he raised his eyes and peered through a veil of hair. “You’re saying you agree with him?” 

“I’m saying I understand,” Otabek kept the peace. 

“Well, I prefer my car anyway,” Yuri decided once and for all, “I hate the noise.” His nose wrinkled up in skin-deep disgust. His pout deepened to actuality when Otabek chuckled under his breath. “What’s so funny?” 

“No, I just…” he shook his head, peering into the mirror, “could’ve sworn you liked the purr when you rode with me.” The grit of his voice emulated the low thrum of Otabek’s cruiser. The rumble of the engine reverberated from Yuri’s memory like it was yesterday. He spat in sharp disagreement. 

“Pfft. Don’t know why I ever put my life in a stranger’s hands like that,” Yuri grumbled. He refused to make eye contact. His face would give him away. 

“I came to rescue you,” Otabek answered anyway, “you came with because you trusted me.” 

Yuri wasn’t convinced, remaining steadfast in his own self preserving narrative. He’d had a lapse. He’s lucky he didn’t get kidnapped. Of course, he’d actually meant to be playful in his defense… His shoulders fell, he had no idea they were so tense until he let go. 

“I’m not a stranger anymore,” Otabek spoke up softly, “you can still trust me.” 

Yuri took a second to contemplate confliction. “I want to, I just…” He frowned. “How?” he asked at the edge of his pride. He was at a loss, Otabek could see it in his eyes. Matching Yuri’s seriousness, Otabek offered him the razor, extending it like an olive branch. 

“I trust you,” he acknowledged, “I have no reason not to.” 

After a full minute of tense stillness, Yuri hesitantly accepted the razor. 

“Hold still…” 

With quick, easy flicks, Yuri ran the edge of the blade over Otabek’s skin, first down the broader planes and saving the corners for later. The soft _shing!_ of the razor sliced through the air and echoed off the walls of the bathroom. Yuri was very efficient, gently dictating the angle of Otabek’s face with prods and feathery touches. He never went over the same spot twice, making doubly sure to get it right the first time. The amount of care he took made it clear how he’d managed to keep his own face so smooth and soft after all of these years. 

“What?” Yuri breathed, feeling Otabek start to play with a strand of his hair. When Yuri rinsed the razor, and the blade was well away from his face, Otabek moved up to run his fingers over the fluffy little hairs behind his ears, the heat of his palm radiating onto Yuri’s neck. “Hold on–” he shied away. 

“Sorry.” 

“No it’s– You’re fine. It’s just…” Yuri coughed and willed away the tingling running all over his skin. His heart rate picked up so fast he felt faint. “It’s something I’m... weird about,” he half explained, getting back to work, “you can’t touch me there.” That seemed fair. The hand migrated up to cup his cheek. 

“Here?” Otabek asked permission, a dollop of foam hanging off his chin. Yuri shifted under his gaze. 

“I guess that’s fine.” He wielded the razor with only the underside of Otabek’s jaw left lathered up. “...This is the hardest part, still trust me?” Otabek’s eyes were black, absorbing of all light. He said nothing. “Chin up.” Close enough to share a breath, Otabek sat completely still even as Yuri ran the blade over his throat, over the blood pumping in his veins. Yuri let it drag roughly over his vocal chords, almost harsh enough to cut him but not quite. Then they were still, coming down from an unexpected high. “All done.” 

“Thank you,” Otabek’s voice sounded low and sandy. Neither moved a muscle. 

“We leave in ten.”

Yuri and Otabek set out into the streets of St. Petersburg, walking for about twenty minutes before ducking into a small commercial studio. The first thing Otabek saw when he looked into the studio was a large spotlight dousing a black chair in harsh white light. 

“Aurelien!” Yuri called out, but the bustle was more of a hum this morning. Aurelien with her big doey eyes popped her head up when she heard her name. A makeup artist stood behind a makeshift wall of black masking and concentrated on preparing another for the shoot. Stephano must’ve stormed out for the first time today with many more artistic tantrums to follow. 

“Yuri?” Aurelien hooted, “You’re… you’re early! We’re not even finished setting up yet!” Then she noticed Otabek standing behind him, or rather she noticed his sharp jawline and hard eyes. “And who is this?” she quizzed, setting her overbearing eyes on the man Yuri strung along beside him. 

“Take care of him, will ya?” Yuri crossed the room like he owned the place, leaving Otabek alone with Aurelien as she continued to gawk at him. He threw his coat on a hook tacked onto the far wall and disappeared behind the masking with a smirk. “No peeking.” 

“So…” Otabek tried to make conversation, “what exactly is all this–”

“Can I take your picture?” Aurelien interrupted, sinking her talons into Otabek’s wrist and dragging him to that chair under the spotlight. “Are you from the agency?” she interrogated, shoving him back down when Otabek moved to stand and make his escape. “I’ve been trying to get Yuri to join, but he really only likes to shoot with us. Which is good! But he could do amazing things with the right help.” Otabek floundered, eyes locked on the curtain Yuri had disappeared behind. “Yes, just like that. You’re so haunted, that’s very trendy right now!” 

“Oh, leave him alone.” 

Yuri emerged from makeup with a shockingly lovely young girl on his arm. She covered perfect alabaster skin in sheer black sleeves. She dripped with jewels from her finger-waved curls to the translucent train that dragged behind each graceful step. Rose petal lips painted to perfection stood out red and bold against ivory hair and black tulle. 

“Get out of my chair,” Yuri commanded. Otabek stood up abruptly, still in his coat and scarf as he bit down on his tongue to keep his jaw from dropping. 

Yuri was a sight Otabek wasn’t prepared to see. With dewy skin and tossed hair, Yuri looked freshly ravished in the space of three minutes. He settled into his seat under the spotlight and the girl made herself at home in his lap, her thin fingers weaving into his hair. Otabek moved to stand awkwardly behind the scenes. The light washed out all color, bringing the girl’s lips into hyper-focus just a breath away from Yuri’s. She looked hungry for him, and he looked so far gone that he would give her anything. 

Her eyes dipped down, shyly glancing at the floor and giving Otabek a good look at long lashes before she looked him up from his shoes to his face. She sent him a friendly smile. A small gasp escaped her when Yuri slipped a hand around her waist. 

“Sweetheart, we lost you,” Aurelien directed from her end of the viewfinder. First shoot of the day and she was already tired, voice flat and lack luster. Otabek found it vaguely amusing how people in show business communicated, way too sweet to thinly mask their frustration. 

“Who is that?” the girl asked Yuri. He shifted to find who she was referencing. “Don’t look, don’t look.” 

“Oh Safi,” Yuri crooned like a dove, his lips playing at her throat, “you know how I feel about being told what to do.” She just barely let a breath slip when Yuri gripped her waist, not entirely painful but definitely threatening. Her eyes went wide as she watched his expression fade from canned sweetness to smug and vaguely challenging. “This is Safia Mikhailovna Kryukova,” he introduced the girl to Otabek who lurked in the shadows. “That bird behind the camera is Aurelien Gustavo. She’s the photographer today but is usually the artistic director. Guys, this is–” 

“Beka!” 

The air filled with the smell of brimstone and Yuri aimed a deadly glare right between Stephano’s eyes as he waltzed right up to the shoot with coffee and pastries for everyone. Yuri projected the length of Stephano’s sorry life into his brain and he stopped dead in his tracks. The big goofy grin on his face fell away. 

“I mean, what?” Stephano quickly amended, choosing the route of pleasant surprise. “Who is this?” he asked, “Hello, I’m Stephano D'Agostino, Director of Fashion.” He greeted Otabek with a firm shake. 

“Otabek Altin…” 

“And I’m Yurochka Nikolaevich Plisetsky.” Yuri added his name to the mix, boredly rolling his eyes. “Satisfied, Safiya? Can we get back to work now?” She responded with a demure nod and turned to face the camera. Stephano’s brows turned up in the middle. He hurried forward, fishing around inside the white paper bag he held. Safiya rose from Yuri’s lap to stand on her own. 

“My darling boy,” Stephano whined, “what could have put you in such a mood? Are you hungry? Have you eaten?” He murmured sweet, endearing nothings in Italian, choosing a bun covered in cinnamon and sugar with one hand and petting Yuri like a cat with the other. “Try this, cara mia, you’ll like it.”

“Get off me, Jesus Christ.” Stephano mumbled his apologies and Otabek merely stood and watched speechlessly. If anyone had even so much as attempted to get that close to Yuri five years ago, they were subject to Yuri’s wrath for the rest of their lives. “Let’s just finish this, I’m busy today.” 

And with that, everyone assumed their positions. Otabek hovered behind the monitor, Aurelien stood behind the camera, and Stephano wandered around to see from all angles. He gave minimal direction, but Yuri and Safiya understood each other well and chose the best positions to compliment the light and the product they were advertising. Safiya had hold of Yuri’s tie, loosening it with the intent of taking it off. Then the first three buttons of his shirt were undone. 

“No… It needs something different,” Aurelien disapproved, “more tenderness.” 

“Why?” Yuri was quick to protest with a provocative toss of his hair. The girl in Yuri’s arms turned rosy pink under her makeup. A smug grin showed all of Yuri’s teeth. “Sex sells.” Aurelien wasn’t buying it. Yuri broke character with a grumble.

“We get it,” Safiya cooed, running her soft palms over Yuri’s cheeks and offering a feeble smirk. “You’re young, you’re hot, and that’s all there is to you,” she said, “End of story, right?” 

“That’s…” the playful curve of his lips melted away, “that’s not true.”

“Oh yes it is,” Safiya giggled, “everyone and their mother would kill for a chance to be alone with you.” 

“Wait,” Yuri protested in a small voice, “wait, are people saying that? You don’t really–” 

“Maybe not for this shoot, but you should try to break out of this pattern,” Aurelien interrupted, “Most of the work in your portfolio is very…” she rolled her wrist, “very… erotic in nature. Even that advertisement for chamomile tea was off. You certainly didn’t _look_ like you’re about to fall asleep–” 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I can be–” 

“Oh shut your mouth, you’re just jealous!” Stephano threw his arms around his prized possession. “My Yuri can do anything he wants. Look at this face, this _body_...” Yuri tried to swallow his tongue but it wouldn’t go down. He was choking. 

“Don’t touch me–” 

“Ooh, a bit testy today,” Stephano purred. “Fun night last night? Still coming down?” 

“What? No!” 

“Oh, just plain exhaustion then,” he coddled. “Being a snack is a full time job,” he could almost hear Stephano salivating, “and Yuri, you’re the _whole meal..._ ” 

Yuri’s head swam, full to the brim like a glass full of water, about to overflow. Sounds were muffled. His vision blurred out of focus. Then, he was standing at the far end of the studio, watching, watching as Stephano squeezed and massaged his shoulders, watching as Safiya giggled in his lap, watching as Aurelien rolled her eyes. Like a ghost, he’d been disembodied, ripped away from his physical self and forced to sit watch. To take it and not resist. Who was he to deny the truth? 

“Say one more word.” 

Stephano felt the heat of the threat on his neck. Otabek stood directly behind him, engulfing him in hellfire. He was all but thrown out of the way. Safiya had but a second to remove herself before she was next. Otabek knelt down at Yuri’s side. His mind was far away. He stared at the floor, expression mostly neutral but Otabek could sense the pain. Anxiety rolled off of him in clouds of steam heat. 

“Yuri?” Otabek called to him softly. Waving a hand in his face garnered no response. “It’s okay, you can come back now.” Slowly but surely, Yuri’s spirit was coaxed back into his body with soft words and a grounding grip on his knee. His face morphed from blank to a vaguely confused scowl. “Are you okay?” Otabek asked him. 

“I’m fine,” Yuri replied flatly. Everyone in company was grave and silent. It was Safiya who spoke first with a waver to her voice. 

“Was it something I said? I–” 

“I said I’m fine,” he barked. “Get back to work.” With that, Otabek returned to the shadows, Safiya took her place, and the shoot commenced once more. “What even is this shit?” Yuri growled with Safiya so close he could feel her heart beating. 

“A spread for kiss-proof lipstick,” Safiya explained softly. Though he was little more than a prop in this particular shoot and she was meant to be the focal point, Yuri still outshined her. She looked fierce and dominant in the photos that resulted, but the camera couldn’t see how Yuri held her fast and dictated her every move. 

“Does it even work?” he contested. 

“We save the testing for the experts.” 

“So we’re shooting an ad and we don’t even know if it works?” No one had an excuse good enough to satisfy him so they didn’t try. “Aurelien, take the spot down to 40 and bring channels 4 through 6 to 35.” With hesitant typing on a light board beside her computer, Aurelien shifted the lights to a softer, more romantic mood. Safiya seemed tentative, but didn’t move from her spot in Yuri’s lap. “You might wanna film this.” 

Safiya’s eyes slipped shut with a soft sigh the moment their lips met. The red of her lipstick transferred just a bit. When Yuri passed his tongue over her bottom lip, Aurelien set her camera to record. 

“I’ve been dying to finally meet you,” Stephano kept his voice low, standing a little too close to Otabek who visibly leaned back. Even then, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Yuri as he kissed her with the same care as he had with Otabek just a few days ago. “Lovely isn’t he?” Stephano interrupted his train of thought again, “has he always been like that, Beka?”

“I don’t really let people call me that.” Stephano raised his brows with a knowing smirk even though Otabek wasn’t paying attention to him at all. “The next time you do that, I won’t be here to protect you,” he warned. 

“Protect me, he’s harmless–” Silenced by a viper’s grip constricting his windpipe, call the color drained from Stephano’s face. 

“And if I ever hear that you made him uncomfortable again,” Otabek hissed, “I’ll make you wish you were dead.” Stephano whimpered, his entire body lifted and given a brutal shake. “Got it?” he nodded in quick clips, gasping for air when he was released. He stayed dutifully silent for the rest of the shoot. 

Safiya broke the kiss with another lilting sigh. Yuri’s eyes opened and Stephano and Otabek swallowed in unison. He viewed them with such audacity that he didn’t even need to cap it off with a smirk. The heat in his gaze was enough. 

“It does transfer but not a ton,” Yuri observed nonchalantly, his mouth stained red, “I’d say it works.” Safiya’s lips stayed perfect even with the amount of pigment that came off in the kiss. Cleaning up the edges with the tip of his thumb, Yuri was left with a pouting mouth just a few shades redder than normal. 

“It certainly is your color,” Aurelien commented from the monitor, looking through the shots they had so far. 

“Is it?” Yuri stood and stretched out when Safiya stepped out of his lap. “Let’s leave it on then. I can wear lipstick if I want to.” When the edges of his shirt untucked from his pants, Yuri threw his arms down with a satisfied moan. “There. Spread’s done, pretty black swan and… what did you call me? A snack?” Stephano shrank under the pressure of not only Yuri’s sharp gaze, but the unseen presence of Otabek behind him. “People are going to buy this bullshit because of me. Because they wanna fuck me, or be me, and that’s all there is to it.” He stood and crossed the studio, casually throwing on his coat. “You’re welcome.” He set his sights on Otabek, looking more and more unfeeling by the second. He worked hard to keep the wrath burning up in his chest caged. “Let’s go,” Yuri waved him over, “I’m late for my next trick.” 

“Hold on...” Otabek replied thoughtfully.

“Please, let’s just go...” Yuri paced over to him in wide strides. 

But Otabek wandered closer to the set, then into the light, then in front of the camera. 

“You said you wanted pictures, right?” Aurelien was caught off guard, her head spinning right around to pounce on this opportunity. However, Otabek didn’t seem too comfortable alone in the spotlight. He was shifting his weight a lot, hiding his discomfort by keeping to the shadows at the edge of the light. Otabek cleared his throat at the first lull of silence he could. When that wasn’t enough to draw attention, he called Yuri’s name.

“Yuri.” Nothing. “ _Yuri._ ” Yuri didn’t move from his spot just steps from the door, so close to freedom. “It’s just a few shots for instagram. Gotta keep up appearances, right?” Yuri watched Otabek’s expression with rapt longing and hesitation. Otabek definitely noticed Yuri glance down at his lips. 

He caved. “Five minutes.” The cogs were turning. He already had an idea. 

Otabek meekly stepped into the light and Yuri made quick work of his coat and scarf, shoving off his shoulders like he couldn’t wait to burn them for their offenses. Yuri was six buttons down on his shirt before Otabek realized and went rigid. 

“I’m sorry, can I–”

“Why?” Otabek questioned, gritting his teeth at Aurelien’s twittering and the things spilling out of Stephano’s mouth. Safiya saw how anxious all these strangers were making him and turned to leave with an understanding smile, but not before she yanked Stephano away by the wrist towards the green room. With two less people Otabek didn’t feel so crowded. 

“I know what I’m doing,” Yuri assured him through sheepishness, “It’ll look great, I know what I’m doing. Trust me.” Otabek took a breath and allowed it. “Okay,” Yuri affirmed aloud, tossing his own shirt out of the light. “Hey, can you–” 

“Way ahead of you.” The makeup artist tossed him a bullet of the same red she used on Safiya. Before he knew it, Otabek found himself trapped in the chair under the lights with Yuri on top of him peeling off his shirt and filling his lips in with red. 

“So what do you think?” Yuri fished for Aurelien’s opinion. Halfway through another wave of discomfort, Otabek noticed a proud gleam in Yuri’s eyes. “We can take this out… No, leave it up. I’ll put mine up, people don’t see that too often.” Yuri thought out loud, suggesting different light combinations as he swept up his hair into a fist. Twisting it in on itself, Yuri tied his own hair up out of his eyes into a bun at the crown of his head, instantly looking five years younger. Only when he managed to make his hair stay in a bun with friction alone did he remember he was on a schedule, even then the mood of the shoot was light and comfortable. 

“Real men wear lipstick,” Yuri professed dramatically into the camera, “well, one real man and a blowup doll from–”

“Stop that,” Otabek ordered with an edge to his tone. Sitting in his lap, stubborn energy at the peak of its potential had nowhere to go. “It’s just you and me, Yuri, you can relax.” Softly running over his sides, Otabek calmed the little jolts ricocheting up and down Yuri’s spine and all throughout his muscles and nerves. He stared into Yuri’s eyes until his jaw loosened and his mouth fell open with the pout of his lips, until the crease between his brows disappeared. “You’re not at work, no one expects anything of you.” A hand snaked past his ear and over his neck, thumb poised right over his adam’s apple. “Relax,” Otabek whispered like an incantation, and magically, with a tremulous gasp, Yuri softened. 

Otabek foiled him like a precious jewel, offering his simplicity as the perfect backdrop to make him shine. With his hair out of the way, his entire face was on display. The coy pout of painted lips offered a bold statement against his fair skin. The slope of his nose and the length of his lashes matched their femininity. Yuri was pliant under large hands as they slipped over his bare skin. He sat there quietly, breathing lightly, letting Otabek move him as he liked. He viewed the camera with a glassy look in his eyes, but every movement he made he felt with great clarity. He swallowed under the thumb gently caressing his throat. 

“Oh, Yuri you’re a genius,” Aurelien exclaimed when it hit her, “There’s a delicate balance created with the lipstick and your bodies that’s very striking. It’s… androgynous, it’s tense and placid at the same time. Very good thinking!” 

“Thank you,” Yuri mused mostly to himself, “that’s what I was going for, I mean… I don’t know it just popped into my head.” Distracted by the way the light shadowed washboard abs and tanned skin, Yuri completely forgot about the people watching them. His body let go with a thrumming purr. His nipples pebbled. Goosebumps erupted over his arms and neck. His muscles loosened and the relief was so total and long awaited that a content sigh slipped out without warning. 

“Amazing,” Otabek praised just between the two of them, “you’re amazing.” 

Aurelien didn’t know what to say. She snapped a photo here and there and remained speechless, being the only outsider able to really witness Yuri Plisetsky in a state of surrender. Aurelien openly admired two gorgeous young men lightly touching and treating each other with grace and delicacy. Otabek never looked through the lens of her camera but Yuri certainly did, marking the camera with delight and dignity, showing off his friend finally returned to him. Every so often he turned back to gaze into Otabek’s nebulous eyes, getting lost in them. 

“You’re good at this,” he noticed. 

“I’ve had my share of sponsorships to pose for,” Otabek shrugged modestly, “mine just look like mugshots.”

Aurelien couldn’t believe Otabek had slipped through the industry’s fingers. Every ounce of muscle he built up with figure skating stood out under the light. Yuri had a sleeker, lissome body-type, but turned just as many heads. Now they were here together in the same shoot. Yuri’s fan base had no idea what was coming for them. Throwing his arms across Otabek’s chest, Yuri stood behind him and whispered in his ear. Whatever he said had convinced Otabek to look dead center into the camera and Aurelien held her breath. 

“Do we have enough?” 

“I’d say so for now,” Aurelien conceded, unsure of how much more her heart could take, “but this is a very interesting concept, Yuri. I would like to explore this again if you’re okay with it.” 

“That’s fine,” he agreed easily, “thanks again.” Aurelien marveled at the way gratitude played on Yuri’s voice, choked up like he almost couldn’t speak it, like he would burst. A flattered smile curved her lips as she poured her focus into reviewing the shots. 

Otabek’s hand fit so well in the small of Yuri’s back; his face matched the curve of his neck perfectly. Letting him go was to deliberately rip apart puzzle pieces meticulously put together. 

“Wait.” Otabek shifted under Yuri’s weight, both hands slipping down his sides to rest loosely around his waist. It was time to go. He went to lift Yuri up and out of his lap. “Don’t move, don’t move,” Yuri hissed not out of anger. His eyes were round and doey, shifting back and forth between them and the camera where Aurelien still hovered. “We’re gonna have to sit here for a second,” he all but whispered. 

“Oh–” 

“Shut up.” Otabek grunted at a sharp, stinging pain in the roots of his hair. His head craned back, following Yuri’s grasped that yanked just the way he liked it. “You have your kinks, I have mine,” he spoke through his teeth. “You did that on purpose, I know you did.” 

The pressure shivered out of him through his hands. Otabek grabbed that tiny waist and wrenched it closer. His spine bowed outward, arms tensed, abs rippled. But nothing on his face but a tenebrous glint of complacency. As if to say, _What are you gonna do about it?_

But there was nothing he could do, not without compromising Otabek’s fidelity. 

“Alright, I think I’ve wasted enough time.” Yuri was out of Otabek’s lap and throwing on his jacket in the blink of an eye. His demeanor had gone cold. 

“It was nice to meet you!” Aurelien said just a little too loudly. “You really should consider joining an agency, you’ll have no trouble finding work. Both of you.” They were gone before she could finish her sentence. 

“Did it go well?” Stephano wondered as he meandered back into the studio. With Safiya close behind, he made a beeline for the monitor. At the first raw frame alone, his jaw dropped. 

Outside the sky was grey. The sun was weak and it had started to snow. Otabek discovered Yuri shaking out his hair and rushedly searching his pockets outside the studio. “Hey,” he called out to him and Yuri took off, several steps ahead of him. “Slow down.” Otabek caught him by the wrist, whipping him around like a rag doll. His hair caught the wind and snow, his bare chest exposed to the wintry bluster underneath an unbuttoned shirt. His nose and lips were bitten raw by the air already, but his eyes were red with unshed tears.

“What’s her name?” he implored. 

“Oh, not this again.” 

“Why won’t you tell me?” 

“You don’t need to know.” 

“Otabek!” Yuri suddenly shouted, startling himself with his own desperation. He turned out the breast pocket of his coat and found a lighter. “Do I know her? Is that it?” he interrogated, half distracted with locating just one god forsaken cigarette. “I don’t understand. It’s driving me crazy, I thought you trusted me.” 

“You don’t know her, okay?” Otabek countered hotly, “You two would’ve never crossed paths, Yuri, she isn’t like this. She isn’t like you…” His mouth charged ahead of his brain which noticed the stupefied betrayal on Yuri’s face first. 

“So you think it too,” he confirmed. He eyed a pharmacy over Otabek’s shoulder. 

“That’s not what I–” 

“What is she even like if she’s not a slut like me?” Yuri tasted blood in his mouth, seeping through his teeth and out of his mouth. “What’s she doing with a lying, selfish bastard like you?” He spit it out. “My hero,” he sneered. With that, he trudged in the direction of the pharmacy. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You didn’t have to,” Yuri grumbled over his shoulder, giving the lighter a shake. 

“She’s nice!” Otabek blurted beyond his control. “She, uh, she’s a nice girl.”

“She’s nice?” Yuri parroted with his back to him, waiting for an opportunity to cross. “Serious girlfriend for four years and all you can say is she’s nice. Fine,” he threw his hands up, “forget I asked.” 

“Just wait!” Otabek roared unexpectedly. Yuri jolted, one foot out into the street. He was breathing hard, stoking the fire in his lungs that he was trying to smother. “Don’t leave.” Yuri blinked and reset himself safely on the pavement, squaring his feet and taking in Otabek at his limit. “You do know her,” he admitted uneasily, “her name is…” He choked on the truth. “It’s… uh, Mi…” It was easier to lie. “Uh,” Hadn’t he lied enough? “Mil…” 

“Amelia?” a voice like a cooing dove interjected. Out into the world stepped Safiya in her gown. “Is that her name?” 

“Yeah,” Otabek confirmed, their eyes met. Safiya didn’t blink. “Yes.”

Yuri rolled his shoulders, his coat slipping off and leaving him in an open shirt to brave the cold. He barely felt it. “Doesn’t sound familiar…” he wracked his brain, wrapping the lapels tight around Safiya’s body to keep her warm. 

“Amelia Chavez, right?” It took a second for Otabek to nod. “She was the last girl…” she said to Yuri. Then he understood. 

“Oh, was she?” he exacerbated. Otabek bit his tongue. “Shit,” Yuri sucked his teeth. “She does not like me.” By the look of Yuri’s face, Otabek knew that he and Amelia Chavez didn’t part on good terms. That day was a blend of screaming matches and chain smoking for Yuri, he didn’t remember what he’d said to her but he could never forget the unadulterated hate setting her dark eyes on fire. “Does she know about–” he cut himself off, unknowingly giving Safiya’s shoulder a squeeze. “Does she know we know each other?” he asked delicately. 

Otabek responded with a simple, “Yes.” 

“Yikes…”

“Can we please put this to rest now?” Otabek implored, begged even. He and Safiya exchanged a look. She was the first to break it, tucking her hand into the scooped neck of her dress to retrieve something. Yuri nodded sheepishly, kicking the pavement like a scolded child. Very rarely the type to revisit embarrassment, Otabek breathed a sigh of relief, Yuri wouldn’t bring this up again. He was too proud. 

“Yuri,” Safiya spoke up after giving a moment for the air to settle. Hearing her speak his name made him tighten his hold on her, give her arm a rub to protect her from the cold. She gave Otabek a look that he recognized well. He took a few paces down the block to give them some privacy. 

“So,” she couldn’t hide a small smile, “the gentleman has a soft side.” Yuri scowled. 

“It’s snowing, Safiya. You’re not even supposed to let anyone see you like this and it’s too cold for you to–” 

“Okay, okay!” she resolved fondly. She produced a rumpled, half empty pack of cigarettes. “A peace offering for a… for you. I’m not going to make any assumptions on your character.” Yuri accepted them, first warily, then he looked very very tired. She deflated, shrinking like a violet. “I’m _so_ sorry, Yuri. I can’t even believe I said that, you know I didn’t mean it like that…” 

Yuri stopped her. “Yeah you did,” he said, “I’m a filthy slut. That’s my brand. Everybody knows that.” He smirked like everything was fine, like he was in on the joke. Safiya had seen that frosty flicker before. Now she understood it as pain. 

“Those pictures. They’re…” she went quiet, searching for words to articulate the indescribable. “They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.” A stroke to his ego made his brows raise. With a cigarette poised at the corner of his mouth he dropped his hands to her waist. 

“Feels good to be beautiful, doesn’t it–” 

“Not mine.” Yuri settled back on his heels, intrigued and listening. A look Safiya had never seen, much less directed at her. She forgot how to speak, how to breathe for a split second. “Remember when you asked me if I’d ever been in love?” she blurted, “I could barely stand it, I thought you were hitting on me.” 

It wasn’t a question he expected, giving a clipped hum in contemplation. 

“Maybe I was,” he teased, “y’know,” he paused to light the end of his cigarette, “I’m on the market. And you sure do like kissing me.” She watched the smoke drift lazily out of his nose and mouth, lips still red despite the half hearted rub of the back of his hand to get it off. Otabek had been much more careful. “Are you saying it was me you were picturing?” he jeered, “do you love me, Safiya?” 

“Not yet,” she jested right back albeit timidly. She even stole the cigarette right from his mouth for a drag of her own. A genuine smile from Yuri made it worth it. 

“Pleasure working with you today, Safiya,” he thanked her like the gentleman she’d accused him of being. He loomed in close, feeling the heat of the smoke she exhaled. “If we could keep today between us,” he murmured, “I would appreciate it.” Plucking the cigarette out of her hand, he made his departure. 

“Yuri,” he looked over his shoulder. The look on her face had fallen grim. She peered down the block to where Otabek stood in wait. “Watch your back,” she warned just quiet enough that she almost thought no one heard, “especially if he’s behind it.” Yuri’s eyes connected with hers, his gaze hot and sharp, honed in on Safiya like the eyes of a tiger on its prey. Yuri waited for her to say something else. He wasn’t visibly angry, but those eyes were anything but friendly. Safiya didn’t know what to think so she blurted, “he’s not telling you the truth. He just–”

“Safiya.” Unsaid words clogged her throat. Her chin tilted up to meet his gaze. He loomed over her like a derelict building eclipsing the sun. “Darling, Starlet, Princess,” his hold on her tightened painfully. She gasped. “You are _so pretty_ …” Yuri admonished behind a tight smile. He slipped his coat off of her shoulders, spun it around, and threw it on. It rippled through the air like a cape. “Goodbye now.” 

Otabek caught up with him quickly, trotting after him and past Safiya who stood motionless and beautiful. Yuri subconsciously pulled his coat tighter around himself, the frost biting at his nose and cheeks. He shrugged his shoulders but the wind wasn’t helping. He was about to complain when Otabek silently wrapped his scarf around Yuri’s neck, taking care to keep his ears and nose warm if he tucked his chin down. 

“Thanks,” Yuri hummed, knowing how actively irresponsible he could be. Otabek shrugged and pretended that he wasn’t cold without it. 

“What do you usually do next?” Yuri gave no response. “Thought you had a full day planned.” In an effort to capture Yuri’s gaze, Otabek peeled off one of his gloves and grazed the palm of Yuri’s hand. An electric shock jolted him and he shied away with a look of scandal in his eyes. “What?” Otabek questioned, “I can’t hold your–”

“Don’t touch me,” Yuri commanded without an inch of room for disobedience. Otabek gave him some room. “I’m contagious,” he spat mockingly, “you might catch something.” 

A deep frown shadowed his eyes, Otabek had half a mind to storm back into the studio with guns blazing but he swallowed it. 

“Look at me, Yuri.” He reluctantly obeyed. His eyes had lost their shine, dull with shame and exhaustion. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” Yuri shook his head uncomfortably and started down the block. “Let’s just get out of here.” 

They wandered back in the direction of Yuri’s apartment complex in silence. The sky was as grey as the city, heavy with the threat of snow. The wind blew the scarf around Yuri’s neck almost clean off. Otabek caught it before it sailed across the busy streets and into traffic, but Yuri kept walking like he hadn’t noticed it at all. He stopped at the end of the block, watching the cars go by. Trotting up to meet him, Otabek wound the scarf back around Yuri’s neck, tying off the ends to make sure it wouldn’t leave him again. Stuck in a stand still, Yuri chewed the inside of his cheek and thought of something to say. 

“You don’t have to come with if you don’t want to. It’s stupid.” Otabek waited for an explanation. Yuri shrugged. “Sometimes I go skate laps with all the regular people, just to know what it’s like.” Yuri chanced a sideways glance at Otabek who actually seemed like he was considering it. 

“I haven’t been on the ice in some time,” Otabek premised. 

Yuri sulked awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets. It was stupid. All of his ideas were stupid. “Huh?” he barked dumbly after realizing Otabek had been waiting for a response to something, “uh, yeah,” he blindly agreed, “yeah, yeah...” 

“So that’s a yes?” Yuri frowned and looked up from the pavement. He blinked, disbelieving his own eyes when Otabek just barely smiled. “I was saying I don’t have skates with me, but if there’s rental I’d love to go with you.” 

“Wait…” Yuri slowed his gate and reordered his thoughts. “Really?” Deepening creases framed the smile growing on Otabek’s face. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed Yuri’s hand, weaving their fingers together. 

Yuri looked ahead, letting himself smile behind the stripes of the scarf. He barely noticed the way they slowed their pace to a leisurely stroll, stretching out the time it took to reach their next destination. Yuri’s phone buzzed four times in quick succession but he couldn’t be bothered to look, shoving his hand in his pocket to turn it off. Otabek looked over, acting as though the significance was lost to him and Yuri believed it. He explained that it might be Aurelien sending him the best shots from today’s shoot. Though he tried to hide it, Otabek picked up on the grim look in Yuri’s eyes. He tried to ignore it.

On their way back to Yuri’s apartment to pick up his skates– he didn’t trust rented skates a single bit– they passed by a pet store that Yuri frequented for an array of reasons. He slowed to peek inside the storefront window and see if he knew anyone working when he noticed a woman with sorrow in her eyes. She was holding a cardboard box and heading slowly towards the back. Just before she hit the back door, she set the box down and pulled something out of it. Her eyes filled with tears. 

“Hold on.” Yuri ducked into the store before he even finished his thought. The woman didn’t even blink when the bells affixed to the door jingled. Yuri marched right up to her. “What’s going on?”

Inside the box were three mewling kittens, each of them small enough to fit in the palm of the woman’s hands. Their eyes were open, but they were much too small to be more than a few days old. The woman held a little grey ball of fur in her hand, encouraging it to suckle from a bottle but it refused. 

“He’s not eating. None of them are,” a few tears loosened from her lashes. “We have to put them down–”

“Give me that.” Yuri unwrapped the scarf around his neck and took the bottle from the woman. Nesting the kitten in the scarf, Yuri held it close to his heart. Listening to it’s beating, the kitten’s meowing calmed and quieted. It wasn’t so scared anymore. “You have to hold them close, so they feel safe,” Yuri informed, getting the cat to feed with ease. 

The woman gaped. “No one’s been able to make them eat. I was about to take them to the vet…” 

Yuri wasn’t listening. After the kitten was satisfied, it playfully chewed at Yuri’s fingers. Without giving him the chance to say no, Yuri handed the kitten off to Otabek for him to entertain while he fed the next one, a calico with bright blue eyes. He handed that one to the woman and reached into the box for the last kitten. He hummed in question. 

“What breed is this?” he asked curiously, running the pads of his fingers under the chin of a tiny hairless cat. “Or is she sick?” 

“No, she’s a sphinx. We thought we would sell her right away with her being hypoallergenic, but most people see her as ugly–”

“I’ll take her,” Yuri interrupted, “I’ll take them all.” 

The tips of Yuri’s ears turned pink as they hurried home. He used the scarf to keep his new kitten’s warm and introduce him to his scent and presence. He raced up the stairs, hair flowing in the breeze. Otabek followed behind with a small, fond smile. 

They made it into the house with ease, the kittens mewling and climbing over each other to take in their new surroundings. All the new sights and smells were daunting, but Yuri was silent and patient. He set the box on the rug in the living room, unwrapping the scarf tangled up in a mess of tails and paws. There was a small tear in the middle of the scarf from nibbling teeth, Yuri handed it back with implied apology but Otabek couldn’t care less as he watched Yuri introduce the calico to her new environment first. Sitting with her on the rug, Yuri presented the kitten in his hands.

“Rusalka.” Yuri looked up at Otabek expectantly, settling between his knees.

“Sounds perfect.” Yuri’s eyes lit up. 

“Too bad she’s not red,” he mused as an afterthought. Keeping an eye on her, Yuri went for the little grey one pawing at the lip of the box. He thought hard for a few moments. 

“What about…” Otabek interjected, “Ovinnik?” 

“Sounds perfect,” Yuri parroted, his tone edging on mocking. Once Ovinnik hit the rug, he darted towards Rusalka and jumped right onto her back. They seemed to be around three to four weeks old despite their size but Yuri was confident that they would get bigger. They weren’t ready for dry foods yet mostly because the woman in the pet shop had no idea how to deal with them. Yuri rolled his eyes, pulling the last kitten from the box. 

Otabek watched as Yuri looked her over, checking for scratches or injuries that would be more easily spotted on a hairless cat. She was smaller than the others, weaker, probably younger. Rusalka and Ovinnik prowled around the rug, sniffing at the legs of the chair Otabek was sitting in. Rusalka nudged at his leg, rubbing her ears into his ankle. He bent to pick her up. 

“Where’s Potya?” he asked. He’d been here for days and hadn’t seen her. Perhaps she was still at Yuri’s grandfather’s house, but he thought that Yuri would’ve taken her with him when he moved out. 

“Oh,” the smile on Yuri’s face sank and faded away, “Potya’s dead. She died a few days after I left for Barcelona...” 

Otabek swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, but Yuri shook his head. 

“So we’re kinda stuck here until they tire themselves out,” Yuri changed the subject, “it’s best for kittens to interact with people as much as possible while they’re awake.” 

“I’m okay with that,” Otabek shrugged off his coat. He relaxed into the armchair, resting the back of his head and closing his eyes for a moment.

“Oh ho, way to narrowly avoid a crushing defeat,” Yuri teased. Otabek huffed and opened his eyes. Yuri was making his way to stand.

“Just saving you the embarrassment.”

Yuri set the last kitten on the rug, sticking his tongue out at Otabek and wandering into his bedroom. He pulled off his shirt as he went. When he returned he was dressed all the way down to sweats and a guns and roses t-shirt, the most relaxed Otabek had ever seen him since Barcelona. Yuri had been pretty anti-pants back then and something told him he still was. Yuri was trying to respect his boundaries. 

“That’s my shirt,” Otabek observed, his memory flashing images of the night Yuri spent in his hotel room and had been too lazy to run to his room for pajamas after a shower. Judging by Yuri’s knowing smirk, he was never planning on giving it back. Otabek gave a huff of laughter. “What do you wanna name this one?” Otabek asked after Yuri plopped himself back down on the rug. Otabek rubbed behind naked ears, making the last kitten purr. 

“I don’t know,” Yuri said. “Actually, I think I wanna give her to Victor and Yuuri. One of their daughters is allergic to cats but she’s always wanted one.” Yuri held her up, looking her over. The kitten had dark grey skin, almost making her looked shaved rather than hairless. Her eyes were heavy, blinking shut, but he could see the way one was emerald green and the other was a cold clear blue. “Let’s call her Yaga for now,” Yuri decided, “Akari can decide if she wants to change it.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Yuri set Yaga on the rug with Rusalka and Ovinnik, all three kittens showing signs of exhaust. With all this new information bombarding them, they tired quickly and resorted to wandering around and discovering their new home with Yuri stopping them and turning them around when they ventured too far. 

“You know,” Otabek began, wandering to his room to change, “I’ve never gotten a chance to meet the girls.” He heard Yuri moan deep in his chest in profound disappointment from behind the guest room door, only half closed. 

“Otabek, I swear to god,” Yuri exclaimed, “if you do anything while you’re in Russia you better go see those girls.” 

“I thought you hated kids?” 

“Oh, I still hate kids.” Yuri scooped up the kittens and returned them to the box to keep an eye on them. Yaga had fallen asleep and her new siblings were just about to. “Their already so smart. I can’t explain it but Akari knows what you’re thinking even before you have the chance to think it.” Yuri slumped down on the couch with the back of his head on Otabek’s shoulder. “She’s the quieter of the two, she takes after Yuuri. Stella’s more outgoing, but she’s _evil._ ”

“More evil than those triplets you told me about?”

“ _Much more._ ” 

Yuri told stories about how Stella had tried to kill him on multiple occasions, how Akari is ticklish beyond belief, how the both of them decided that Yuri was their brother. Victor woke up every day bursting with the need to tell the world how happy he was, how lucky he was to have a loving husband and two brilliant, strikingly beautiful daughters. Yuuri did eventually retire from competitive skating and owned a small rink near their house. 

Though he stood at a willowy six feet, Yuri lacked the proprioception. He restlessly switched positions on the couch, settling for lying down with his head in Otabek’s lap while he remembered other fun times with the twins. A miscalculation left his legs curled uncomfortably up by his chest, but Yuri was too stubborn and resigned himself to making it work. With an endeared roll of his eyes, Otabek shifted to the far end of the couch to make room and was gifted a grateful sigh and the satisfying pop of Yuri’s joints as he stretched out. One of the kittens sat at the foot of the couch and playfully batted at the strands of sallow hair that streamed off the edge. Yuri continued a plotless story and halfheartedly played with the cat. He was reaching the climax of some forgotten afternoon happening when a timid swipe at the shell of his ear made him lose his place. 

Turning onto his back, Yuri saw first Otabek’s outstretched hand slowly retreating, a blank look on his face. The façade broke with a glimmer of indecisiveness, then the hand was back and carefully tracing Yuri’s hairline in a painstakingly reverent caress. Cupping his chin, Otabek held him in place, leaving Yuri bewitched and silent, listening to Otabek’s pulse through his wrist. Fondly running his thumb across Yuri’s cheek and jaw, Otabek watched a light blush bloom across the bridge of Yuri’s nose. His tongue passed over his lower lip. Yuri shifted, overshot, and ran the pads of his fingers over the inseam of Otabek’s pants. His thigh tensed and his eyes turned black. 

Yuri stiffened. “Sorry,” he mouthed and tried to tear his eyes away from Otabek’s intense focus looking right at him like he didn’t want to miss a thing.

“What for?” 

“I…” Yuri gaped, “I forgot.” His tongue filled his mouth, too big to swallow no matter how much he tried. “What are you... thinking about?” 

Otabek paused, then answered simply, “you.” He picked his words carefully. Yuri held his breath. “You’re beautiful when you smile,” Otabek deadpanned, “you know that right?” Yuri turned pink from the end of his nose all across his cheeks. “Showing your happiness doesn’t make people think you’re weak, it makes them swoon.” 

“Oh my god, you can’t just say shit like that.” He pretended to be embarrassed just to see Otabek almost smile for a cloying second. With a quick lopsided smirk and an exhale of laughter, Yuri realized that he never wanted to leave this spot. “Maybe we should stay in,” he suggested. Otabek agreed with a slow nod, his focus softening, blurring around the edges and shifting clarity to the center of Yuri’s face.

“I’d like that.” 

“Okay,” Yuri’s voice sounded breathy in his ears. His face was hot. He followed his first instinct to touch and realized his fingertips still toyed with the seam running along Otabek’s thigh in constant half-hearted patterns. 

Nothing showed on Otabek’s face but tranquility and the lingering burn of big black eyes. A stark shadow formed under his cheekbones, slicing downwards parallel to his jaw line leading right to the corners of his mouth. His chin was turned down and gravity pulled his lips open. Though his features were harsh and angular, his skin was soft to the touch. It had some give under the press of Yuri’s fingers. He realized he was touching Otabek’s face in the same instant that a couple digits curled under his chin and around his neck, not enough to frighten him but he definitely knew they were there. Yuri’s heart beat out of his chest. 

“Uhm…” he spoke up through a sore throat, “uh, do you...” he searched his brain for anything that would make sense, anything that would extinguish the fire in his belly. His vision tunneled, Otabek subtly tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth and waited patiently for Yuri to finish. “Do you…” his voice failed him and hollowed out. Otabek edged closer to catch his words, propping Yuri up to meet him halfway, steady breaths gusting over heated cheeks. Yuri swallowed. “Do you have any movie suggestions?” 

Yuri could just barely make out that Otabek was confused, thoughtfully smoothing out the crease that formed between Yuri’s brows with his thumb. Yuri tried not to blink as he watched for any minute change in Otabek’s eyes, knowing he’d never give himself away on purpose. If there was anything to give away at all. 

“You can pick,” he replied shortly. Yuri caught it, a faint spark soured by disappointment. 

Every cell in his body yearned to stay, but Yuri reluctantly stood from the couch to close the blinds on the setting sun. He thoughtlessly chose the first thing he saw, one of the Jason movies, and made himself small on the far right end of the couch. Otabek remained in his place, jaw set and staring resolutely at the screen. 

“How did you find her?” Yuri spoke up several minutes later, “Amelia...” Her name left his tongue singed and tingling with numbness. 

“She and I… She and I needed each other for cover. We were both in a new place and needed a story to keep people away. After a while we were in so deep, we didn’t really have anyone else but each other. Now, we’re stuck.” Putting it into words was both cathartic and deeply disappointing. It all summed up to be terribly simple, so dull and incomplex, yet it stood tall and fortible between he and Yuri, who was so close yet still so far. “What about you?” He couldn’t help but ask, “has there been anyone? Anyone serious?” 

“Do you love her?” Yuri avoided after a pregnant pause. 

Otabek closed his eyes. “I thought I did.”

The minutes ticked by. Some kid in a wheelchair rolled down a flight of stairs with a knife in his head. Yuri stared at the floor, a cold shiver rolling up his spine. 

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” 

Otabek swallowed. His hands curled into fists. He looked straight ahead. “The sun’s still out,” he pointed out, “I haven’t seen you eat today.” 

“Kinda tired.” It didn’t even sound like an excuse. He got up and gave Otabek a wide radius as he trudged into his bedroom. The door clicked shut and Otabek hung his head. “Goodnight.” 

He had to take a breath. Left alone, Otabek shuffled to take his phone out of his pocket. He typed in what he had to say, reading it twice before pressing send. 

_I need to talk to you. In person. Have you made it in yet?_

The response was almost immediate. 

_I just got here, are you not at the house? Is something wrong?_

Otabek sighed. 

_I’ll be there in 20 minutes._

Without a word, he slung on his jacket, stepped into his boots, and left the apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's more! if you're a bell toll alumnus this is DIFFERENT CONTENT. read it read it read it! sorry this took so long, i've hit rock bottom. 
> 
> also, this is almost entirely unedited so if you see anything feel free to let me know.

Otabek stepped out of a humid bathroom already in his jeans, long wet hair raked out of his eyes. Even in a state of equilibrium, the way his brows were set over bottomless eyes made them burn as if deep in thought, and he often was. He woke up late this morning. Preferring to rise with the sun, the loss of the first few morning hours made him anxious to begin the day. He ducked back into the bedroom he’d woken up in, the hushed shuffling of his feet causing a body under the sheets to stir. A lovely girl as fresh as the morning dew rolled over and opened her eyes with a sigh, her red hair messily framing her face. 

“You’re leaving?” she breathed, deep blue eyes growing sad, “without waking me up?” She ran her tongue over her lips already bitten pink. Otabek sat beside her on the bed, tugging his boots on. 

“I’m not leaving, Mila, I’m just awake.” She glanced over at a clock on the nightstand, 09:47, she hummed her understanding. Otabek was always up and dressed before seven, being so late in his routine was uncomfortable. Even in thinking about how late it was a little crease appeared between his brows. Mila gave his arm an affectionate stroke, smiling sleepily when he looked her way. He didn’t smile back, but his eyes seemed to soften. “And you seemed exhausted,” he added, “I wanted to give you a chance to sleep in.”

“What a gentleman,” Mila’s smile grew into a grin that could make flowers grow, her cheeks going a little peachy. Otabek’s lips ticked up at the corner. Pressing her palms flat on the bed Mila sat up and rested her chin on Otabek’s shoulder. 

“This is mine.” He tugged at the shirt she wore to bed, recognizing another stolen tour t-shirt. This time from the weekend he saw Alice Cooper in Budapest. Mila narrowed her eyes, caught stone cold busted and not an ounce sorry about it. 

“Want it back?” she challenged, making a joke out of attempting to take it off. Otabek let her keep it for now, the smile on his face falling away. When he met her gaze, the playfulness in her eyes was gone. She nosed at the side of his face, lips an inch from his ear. “Come back to bed,” she beckoned. For a second he lost himself and turned to face her. Their foreheads met. 

“I really shouldn’t,” he had to deny.

“Why?” Mila sighed, frowning when he shied away from her. But he didn’t stand or shift his weight. 

“I told you last night. I need some time.”

She smirked and huffed a breath of unconvinced laughter. “It’s hard to remember what was said _before_ you woke me up and–”

“Mila,” he curtly cut her off. 

Last night. Last night had been a roller coaster. 

Once Yuri escaped into his bedroom, Otabek felt the difference. Like a rubber band pulled too tight, the strain the distance put on the bond that sewed them together was reaching critical levels. It was all his fault, Otabek had put a wall between them that only he could breech. He lingered just a second longer in case Yuri needed anything, but he was safe and warm in his bed before Otabek stole away into the dusk, making his way through St. Petersburg to Mila’s childhood home. 

The living room lights were on when he arrived, the stars starting to shine unhindered by the sun. Otabek prepared himself to meet Mila’s parents before he approached the door, but they weren’t home and wouldn’t be for the next three days. They were in Moscow for a brief change of scenery– unofficially, to give their daughter and her spouse some alone time. Mila answered the door with a beaming smile, throwing her arms around him the second the front door opened. Otabek swallowed, the corners of his mouth pulling down.

“When did you get here?” Mila asked, ushering him inside. She had tea waiting in the kitchen. “I checked upstairs and I didn’t see your stuff. Is it still with–”

“We need to talk,” Otabek blurted. The happy glow behind Mila’s eyes dimmed. Every muscle in his body was tense like his skin was too tight to hold him. He was bursting at the seams yet his face remained casually neutral. 

“Oh,” she sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. “Okay, what’s up?” She was open. She was listening. Otabek felt sick, shuddered off the excess energy like he was going to _be_ sick. “Sit down, sit–” 

“I can’t!” Mila’s mouth snapped shut and her head bowed like a spurned dog. Breathing hard and boiling over, Otabek stood there thrumming with nervous energy. His front cracked right down the middle and all the spiders he tried to hide from the world crawled out. “We have to talk,” he all but whispered, “I have to tell you something.” 

“...You’re scaring me, what’s wrong? Beka?” Otabek winced. Mila gasped. 

Otabek tried to choose his words carefully, but his thoughts were running together. His silence hung over their heads. “I… I think we should take a break…” 

“What?” she questioned in a small voice. Otabek sat across from her, working to keep his eyes on her but it pained him to see her so blind-sided. “We don’t have to get married,” she suggested quickly. She forgot her tea on the table beside her, leaning forward to take both of his hands in hers. They were warm and soft. “We can tell my parents I wanted them to meet you because I love you and not the wedding, or we can just leave and not see them at all.” 

Otabek shook his head. “It’s not that.” He struggled to find the right words. All of his instincts told him to shut down, to disengage because it was easier. It didn’t make him feel so evil. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted uneasily, “I know I said I would help you. I _want_ to help you, and I know time is of the essence but something’s come up. I don’t… I don’t know if I…” He trailed off, eyes skittering away as he squeezed the nape of his neck. Mila let out a shaky breath. “Mila, I– I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know the first thing about being a father. I don’t know how to do right by you and you deserve the best.” 

“It doesn’t have to be you if you don’t want to…” Mila swallowed her heart and it landed in the pit of her stomach. “I’ll find someone else or I can… I can see about artificial–”

“No,” Otabek cut her off before she could even think about it. “That isn’t what you want, you’ve told me that much.” 

She shouldn’t have to opt for insemination if she didn’t want to. She wanted her children to know who their father was and no one should take that away from her. But her window of time was closing, her gynecologist gave her a year or two at best before complications would arise that would hurt her and the baby. After four and a half years of dating and knowing full well that she was too young to do this alone, Mila confronted Otabek and explained what she wanted. She wanted it to be him, and he agreed. But he wanted to set them up for the best life possible, so they settled on a small wedding with a couple of witnesses and flew to Russia. Otabek felt the absence of his own family every day, but they simply didn’t have the time. 

“Then what?” she implored from her seat to Otabek standing over her. “What happened? Why is it different _now?_ ” By the tone of her voice, he couldn’t tell if he should reply or remain penitently silent. She held the pieces of her own strength, shattered with a cheap blow from behind. “Please,” she begged. 

“I found him, Mila.” Mila blinked, shifting her weight in her chair. “...Yuri.” 

“Oh.” For a stretch of time, Mila didn’t breathe. Otabek wore the same protectively blank expression but the longer she stared at him in absolute shock the more his blood rushed in his head. He could hear it roaring in his ears. Why did it seem like her worst fears had been realized? “What a surprise,” she forced herself to smile, “How is he? How’s that little girlfriend of his?” 

“Safiya. She’s just a partner.” 

“Right…” 

Otabek bit down on his tongue, his jaw tightening. His chest ached for Mila, but his heart pounded proudly just thinking of how Yuri has grown and changed throughout the years. Nothing about him was lost to time, his style aged well to suit adulthood and status and the fire in his belly remained strident and fearsome. 

“He’s gigantic,” he said out loud. “I mean, I assumed he’d be pretty tall but he was shorter than me when we met officially and now I can’t see the top of his head. He’s so beautiful, even more than he was before, it’s hard to look at him. He knows it too, he’s… he’s definitely self aware.” Mila could do no more than offer a tight nod in response. Otabek laid a hand on her shoulder and felt the tension in her muscles increase. “This is a good thing, right?” he optimized, “We can finally be with who we want to be with.” 

“Look, I know it started out like that but–” 

“Call Sara,” Otabek proposed, “If she’s in Italy, go there, take the next flight out of here.” A romantic idea. She even pictured herself knocking on Sara’s front door in Cosenza, seeing her face light up, touching her soft sunkissed skin, kissing her lips. “I’ve screwed things up with Yuri pretty badly,” Otabek admitted with a promising glint in his eye, “but I have to believe it’s not too late. You should too, Mila, it’s not too late for either of us.” The barely there smile fell from her lips; her eyes greyed grimly. “I have to know if there’s still a chance,” Otabek urged, “I have to know...” 

Mila swallowed, starting and stopping herself from speaking several times before she gathered enough courage to dispel any and all hope in Otabek’s heart. “We’ve been saving for months to come here,” she intoned. 

“I know but–” 

“And you don’t love me.” She choked down a sob, blinking back tears. Otabek took it like a punch to the chest. He was speechless. He was shocked. “I know it’s– This is happening really fast, and I’m sorry but–” She tripped over her words, shaking her head to force out a coherent thought but all she could see in her head was long blond hair and taunting eyes. “I _love_ you.” 

“What about Sara?” He inquired delicately, but his idea of gentle wasn’t gentle enough. Though Mila was tough, one of the reasons he was drawn to her, she felt very deeply. He often forgot how easy it was to break her. Crystalline teardrops streaked down her face, her once smiling face broken and hopeless. “M-Mila–”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand?” she parroted with an edge to her voice, “We’re supposed to be getting married next Friday!” 

Otabek sucked in a breath through his nose and set his jaw, slowly his façade reformed and solidified around him. “We’re getting married because you want a family. We have to move quickly and I didn’t want you to think I’d leave you when things got hard.” Mila saw his eyes flash for a split second, like the flickering of a film reel projecting a memory into his head. 

“I know,” she conceded. She even found it in herself to smile fondly. “Three sisters, Anam, and the man of the house.” She reached out to him, wanting to hold his hand and show him that she understood. He looked in her direction but he didn’t see her. Seeing her would be seeing what selfishness had done to someone counting on him. But he took her hand and the seat beside her with a tired sigh. She ran her thumb over his knuckles and rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re not like him, Otabek,” she reminded him softly, “you’re too caring. Too responsible. You never leave anyone behind.” 

“I’m trying….” he promised weakly. He spoke right from his soul. Mila squeezed his hand and said nothing, thanking God to be blessed with both of her parents. “I’ll talk to him,” he suggested when he was ready. “Maybe he’ll understand. Maybe he’ll be okay with it and I can still keep my promise.” 

“He’d never agree to something like that,” Mila disagreed, “he doesn’t like to share. Never has.” 

“He’s different now.” Otabek remembered how unwilling Yuri was to let him go, like physically separating would cause him pain. He remembered Yuri’s panic attacks. “Tired.” 

“Does he even know we’re together?” she asked, “Were together,” she later corrected herself. 

Otabek had to close his eyes. “Therein lies another problem…” Mila’s brows knit, she sat up to look at him. “He thinks your name is Amelia.” Mila all but groaned. “I was going to tell him but he got so…” They both knew what he was trying to do, protect her from Yuri’s wrath, but Yuri was still an underfed, twenty year old figure skater. Mila can deadlift him.

“You lied to him?” Mila theorized with an edge to her voice. “You boldface lied to him?” Otabek sat there, stupidly silent. “Oh no. No way. I wash my hands of this. You’re on your own.”Otabek went quiet, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. “God, I’ve known Yuri since he was ten. You knew him for a week, Otabek. You have no idea what he’s really like, he is _not_ someone you can just lie to!” He remained silent. “Are you–” the words died in her throat. She couldn’t say it. “Have you two been… Ugh, are you two sleeping together?” she finally forced out. 

“No,” Otabek was swift to deny, omission wasn’t lying but Mila was onto him. She grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to meet her gaze. She was the only woman to ever read him, and he was like a children’s book to her. 

“Tell me how deep this runs,” she ordered, “don’t you dare lie to me.” Her insistence was disarming. She wasn’t angry persay, more so exhausted by the wrath she visualized in the near future that Otabek was too lovesick to see. 

“There’s nothing to tell.” She waited. “It wasn’t even like that…” Mila leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. Otabek held up against her for a while, but she stared so incessantly that it was only a matter of time before he broke. “Fine,” he grumbled, “He wants me. And it is _so_ hard not to want him back. I was afraid to even touch him cuz I don’t know if I’d be able to stop. Are we sleeping together? No, and it’s taking a lot of energy to keep it that way. I thought about it, especially when I had him pinned to the couch and he looked up at me with those _eyes._ I was _this close_ but I said no. He was such a brat about it too, I want nothing more than to put him in his place, but I can’t. He’s right there and I can’t do anything about it… Happy?” Mila ground her teeth, anger and sadness coalescing and threatening to spill more tears from her eyes. She threw her hands up in the air, defeated and unable to trust her voice not to break again. “What? Mila, I had no idea how you felt. What don’t you like about–” 

“Let me tell you something about Yuri Plisetsky, okay?” “I guess he let the fame go to his head. It’s everywhere, all the drugs and treating people like they’re shit. And it only got worse after his grandfather died.” 

“Wait, wait,” Otabek interjected, “Nikolai’s… dead?” 

Mila’s voice grew softer and softer, like in saying all of these things out loud she was burning them into history forever. “Just last year. On Yuri’s birthday.” 

Otabek’s breath ran thin. “We were here…”

“I know.” 

“We were visiting your parents when your Mother broke her hip.” 

“I know, Beka.” Mila’s voice caught in her throat. A moment of silence passed in mourning. “I didn’t go to the funeral. I didn’t even tell anyone we were in town. But I did go to Yuri’s apartment a few days later.” Deep down she hoped he would be different, but this is the person Yuri had become. “I showed up at his house and the door was open. I had this feeling of dread in my stomach so I went in.” Her skin crawled at the memory. “I found him in the bathtub with a needle in his arm. He didn’t even have the energy to take it out.” Otabek felt his nose prickle. “He had these huge patches of red all over like he was trying to rub his skin clean off his body. I looked it up, I think it’s called the Shakes. It’s what happens when–”

“Okay, okay.” 

Mila jolted at the tear in his voice. She cleared her throat. “I tried to help him,” she continued, “I went to take the needle out and he grabbed my wrist so tight I thought he’d break it. He looked wild, he looked like a ghost. He said horrible things…” 

_Tell a soul what you saw here and I will kill you. I’ll mess you up so bad no one will ever look at your pretty face again. I have nothing left to lose, he took everything. Everyone’s gone… Everyone’s gone, there’s nothing left… Get out. Get out of my house, Hag. And don’t come back. Or I’ll fucking kill you._

Rarely was Mila truly scared. She was easy to startle and was frightened by horror movies, but what she saw that day stayed with her. It haunted her. Otabek wouldn’t pretend that he could imagine his Yuri in such a state, but he knew it was real. All he could do was pull Mila into his arms and remind her that she was safe. She was quiet for a moment, wondering if she’d done the right thing, wondering if it had been her fault. 

“I tried to call him,” she said, “I called him every day for at least a week. When he didn’t answer I called Victor. He told me that one day Yuri simply cut off all his friends and refused to acknowledge that anyone cared about him. _I don’t have any friends_ is sort of a catch phrase of his.” She let out a breath of disgust and disappointment, “God,” she groaned, “I didn’t even tell anyone. I just went back to the hospital to see Mom. I was crying and you held me for hours and told me she would be up and kicking in no time.” Otabek forced a small smile that faded as fast as it appeared. “Listen. I know it started off as a cover but… god, I just… do you even believe me when I say I love you?” Her voice cracked with a fresh flow of tears dripping down her cheeks. “Does it mean anything at all?” 

“Of course it does,” Otabek couldn’t be more genuine, “but sometimes it takes so much concentration. I can’t look at anyone else or think about anything else for even a second or I’ll lose it. Then you found out about your complications, you wanted a family, and I wanted to give you as much as I could but it’s… it’s just not that easy.” The truth fell like a bomb, the impact stealing all sound for almost a minute.“I know you don’t want me. You don’t think about me. It just feels so wrong, it’s unnatural.” 

“I’m sorry,” was all she could say. She didn’t deny it. 

“It’s not your fault, don’t say that, don’t think that,” he hugged her tighter, kissed the top of her head. Her hair smelled like the lilac shampoo she liked. “I kissed him in Barcelona, after the Finals,” he explained, “I didn’t even realize what happened until it was over. But… I guess that was Yuri’s first time because he had this… peaceful look on his face, such clarity. And I was so happy because he didn’t have to realize so late in life that _that’s_ what it’s supposed to feel like.” Mila could feel his chest swell with adoration and she knew he wasn’t thinking of her. “I didn’t know until that day. It hit me like a truck. It’s like finally coming home.” 

“I’m happy for you,” she added. 

“He needs me, Mila,” she had to believe him. “It’s worse than you know.”

Otabek could see she imagining what went down and he knew she was wrong. She blinked and her eyes overflowed, tears streaming down her face. She freed herself from their tangle, swiped her hands down her front to neaten up, and she stood to make her departure. 

“Wait, Mila.” Her hand slipped out of his as she walked away and disappeared into the dark hall. “Wait.” He got up from his chair, pushing it in towards the table as second nature. “Wait!” he cried at the edge of his pride. He caught her ascending the stairs, just barely keeping it together so she could cry in solitude. 

“I didn’t plan for the Crispinos to shun me,” she said lowly, “I just wanted to be close to her, you were the closest cover I could find. And I was yours, so your mother would stop asking questions and start seeing you as the man we both know you have always been. I know we’re both gay, but I thought after all these years I found someone I could spend the rest of my life with, someone who felt the same for me, even if it’s not what we originally pictured. I wouldn’t have it any other way, that’s why I was so happy you said yes when I asked you to help me.” 

“Mila…” 

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years.” 

She turned over her shoulder and climbed the stairs, leaving Otabek in the living room to listen to the door click shut. He listened to Mila starting a shower in the bathroom upstairs, right over his head. In a burst of blind adrenaline, Otabek stood and marched up the stairs. 

Mila splayed her hands out on the sink, holding her upper body up as her head sagged on her shoulders. Steam was creeping out from behind the shower curtain but she was still in her jeans, her shirt discarded. She stared at all the prescriptions her doctors had her on just for the _chance_ to be a mother. Nothing was guaranteed. She hoped the roar of the water would drown out her weeping. Three knocks tapped against the door as she dried herself off.

“Go away!” 

“No.” His voice echoed through the hallway. “I’m not going anywhere.” Something in the air was different. Her hands clutched at the towel wrapped around her body. She watched the door, saw the shadows of his feet standing behind it. “Can I come in?” 

All was still for a moment, then the bathroom door unlocked. It swung open and the knob crashed against the tiled wall, Mila jumped in surprise, swinging around with wide eyes. He started forward, cupping the back of her head and locking their lips with such force that the backs of her heels hit the cupboard under the sink hard enough to make a sound. “I made you a promise and I’m going to keep it.” 

“What about Yuri?” she had to ask, “I know how you feel about him, you’ve been waiting for this for years.” She let him back her up onto the sink, gasping when he gripped her by the thigh and jerked her closer, her voice trailing her breath in a lilting sigh. 

“I told you. He’s different now. We want different things. We’ve grown apart.” Otabek could feel her blood quicken in her veins as he laved over the pulsepoint in her throat. “I fell in love with someone else. Someone with red hair…” blunt nails scraping her scalp made her breathless. “Blue eyes…” Closed, lashes too heavy to open back up. “A string of freckles across her nose.” He kissed every single one until her cheeks were warm under his lips. “Can you guess?” 

“You’re so mushy,” she breathed. 

“You know you’re the only one I’ve ever truly let in,” he told her just what she wanted to hear, “You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you, Mila.” Hot breath ghosting along her skin tickled. In one hand she gripped the front of the towel and barely held herself together. The other clung to his shoulder and one of her legs wove around his waist. “I never said I was perfect, but I’m going to fight for you. I’m not going to leave when things get hard.” He punctuated his sweet profession with a peck right to the tip of her nose. Then she saw his eyes. They were too dark, unmatching the love in his words. “Marry me again.” 

“So stupid,” she laughed. There were still some tears but the smile on her face set him at ease. She dropped the towel and it pooled around her hips. “Of course.”

* * *

“I’ve never seen you like that before,” Mila ran her lips along his jawline using barely-there pressure that sent tingles up her spine. “It’s like you were starved. I didn’t realize it’d been so long.” She peppered light kisses up to his ear. “I’m feeling hopeful,” she whispered excitedly, “cautiously optimistic.”

Swiftly returning back to reality after a brutal recount of the night previous, Otabek willed away the memories. With Mila reminding him with every peck and tug at his collar, the effort was futile. 

“You said we could take a break,” Otabek tried to reason, but Mila wasn’t listening. She crawled over to straddle his waist, wearing nothing at all but Otabek’s giant t-shirt. She gave a sleepy little purr and threw her arms around his neck. When their lips met, Otabek instinctively grabbed her waist. “It was a lapse in judgement,” he still wanted to deny but Mila absorbed his attention. Her lips were soft and insistent, each kiss feeling like she needed another. 

“It wasn’t a lapse, Beka,” she hummed into his mouth, “We’ve been together long enough, it’s okay for you to feel a _little_ entitled–” Mila breathed a sharp inhale through her nose, feeling Otabek yank the shirt over her hips to feel her skin. She hid a smirk, nibbling at his bottom lip. “Take the break, go see what Yuri’s really like,” she rolled her eyes playfully, “It’s kinda like a bachelor party, now that I think about it.” She gradually shifted herself back to pull his shirt up over his head. “I’ll still love you and I’ll be here when you come back.” She threaded her fingers into his hair still wet from the shower, dropping her jaw and spilling her tongue into his mouth. “You still haven’t gotten me a ring,” she jokingly reminded, scooting back to get to the button on his jeans. 

“The ring… Holy shit.” Otabek tried to lift her off his lap but she held tight to his shoulders. She smiled into a loving peck. 

“Later, later.”

“The ring. It’s at Yuri’s apartment. He’ll see it–” 

Mila rolled the shirt up and over her head. Her eyes glowed as warm as her skin. “Later.”

* * *

Yuri awakened with the birds, their songs gently rousing him from a deep, fitful night’s sleep unparalleled by any other. The dream he was having slipped away slowly, and for a while he tried to keep it in his head but his body was ready to rise up. He opened his eyes. Yuri was in his bed, tucked neatly under his blankets to keep warm. He rolled onto his back and let the dim sunlight filtering in hit his face. The house was quiet. A stiff silence left the air thick and stuffy. 

Rolling onto his feet, Yuri soundlessly padded to the bathroom, making quick work of brushing his teeth before stepping into the shower. He hated feeling that filminess that coated his teeth and tongue first thing in the morning. If he did nothing else, Yuri always took care of that and let the world suffer through however he looked when he woke up. 

Warm water relaxed his muscles, loosening the knot in his neck from curling up into a ball too tightly in his sleep. He’d have to remember to turn up the heat on the thermostat and be mad about that bill when it came at the end of the month. Running his fingers through his hair, he miraculously found no knots or tangles he’d have to wrestle with and he breathed an audible sigh of relief. One less obstacle. 

Yuri stepped out of the shower and the house was still dead quiet. He was already mostly dry and crossed the living room to his bedroom unapologetically naked, tying wet hair up off his neck. At the end of the day, it was his house. He was the king. He could do with his space what he wanted. He was alone, as was routine. 

But now, he couldn’t shake it, this feeling of garishness like his natural state encroached on the privacies of someone else. There was no one here, but the feeling remained. A t-shirt and underwear was enough of a courtesy, he thought, and the feeling subsided. Halfway through deciding whether or not blow drying his hair was worth the effort, a trio of soft cooing sounds in the living room caught his attention. 

“Morning, assholes,” Yuri flatly greeted three bored kittens trying to escape from their box. He filled his arms and their little claws clung to the collar of his shirt. “All by yourselves?” he asked them. Rusalka mewed in response. The guest room door had a presence all of its own. “Huh…” Gently pinning them to his chest, Yuri crept in close to the guest room door, pushing it open and spilling light into the darkness. “Otabek…?” he whispered. No response. He nudged open the door just a hair more to see into the room. The bed was made. Otabek wasn’t there. 

Confusion echoed in the hollows of his chest. Yuri turned back into the light of the living room to sit on the couch and entertain his kittens. They chewed on his fingers and rubbed their ears into his palms but all he could think about was the fact that all the evidence pointed to Otabek having _been_ here and now was not and he never told Yuri he was leaving. He didn’t have to. Otabek was a grown man who was fairly familiar with St. Petersburg. He’d come here on his own business, perhaps he was busy today. 

But busy doing what?

Yuri took a breath, setting the cats down to retie his hair when it slipped free and glued itself to the back of his neck. He willed his heart to stop beating so fast but he couldn’t relax. He moved the cats to the floor so they wouldn’t fall off the couch and darted into the kitchen to start boiling water for coffee. That would make him feel better. Coffee, cigarettes, and instagram would help him pass the time. Just the taste of the filter on his tongue was starting to make him feel calmer. With a flick at his lighter, he lit the end of his cigarette to the tune of the kettle coming to boil. Then he happened to glance over into the living room. 

“Shit,” he whispered sharply, snuffing out the glow at the end of the cigarette at the sight of his new cats. Smoke was bad for their lungs and if he cared for nothing else he cared for the health and safety of his pets. He poured hot water into a french press he grumpily switched to from a coffee syphon he’d gotten in Japan. It yielded the best results but he’d have to babysit it and the more he waited the more he realized how much he needed this smoke. It was bad for his lungs too, but he could make that choice for himself. Dread started to gather strength in his lungs, stomach, and throat. 

He stepped out onto the balcony, sliding the door closed behind him. It was cold and wintery out. If the wind were any stronger it would sting Yuri’s bare skin. But he liked the cold, he liked how numb it made him feel. Ten good minutes outside in cold weather could make his joints lock and his skin burn but at least those sensations made it impossible to feel anything else. It was his escape just shy of the opiates he dabbled with in extreme cases. Remembering back to when he’d made them a bit of a habit made him grimace. He exhaled a deep sigh and watched white smoke mingle with his breath as it condensed before his eyes. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of town where all the street corners were dappled with coffee shops and bookstores, Karl awoke with a groan. One look at his surroundings and he groaned again. The sun was low in the sky, it was barely morning yet but somehow he was up and aware. He briefly forgot why he’d woken up in the first place, it was his first day off in a little over a year, but the clattering of his phone on his bedside table quickly reminded him. He hissed at the noise and sat up in bed, running his fingers through a shock of brown hair and squinting his eyes at his phone. 

**Instagram:**  
_yuri-plisetsky liked your post_

**Instagram:**  
_yuri-plisetsky liked your post_

**Instagram:**  
_yuri-plisetsky liked your post_

**Instagram:**  
_yuri-plisetsky liked your post_

“What the fuck…” Karl frowned. It was barely eight o’clock in the morning. As far as he knew, Yuri _never_ woke up before noon. He sat up a little straighter, feeling a burst of cold air on his bare shoulders. He made a mental note to kill his roommate if he didn’t pay the heat bill by the end of the week. 

Unlocking his phone, Karl browsed Yuri’s goings on, smirking as he scrolled past posts he made appearances in. The world wanted to know who Yuri was spending all this time with. Karl never said anything on pain of death, and he was certain that Yuri would be swift to deliver, but it’s not to say he didn’t love the attention anyway, even if it wasn’t directly attached to him. The two most recent posts were of Yuri and that guy Karl had seen him with, the one that made Yuri visibly insecure by his presence alone. And suddenly Karl was worried about Yuri being awake so early. It was really unlike him. Throwing on what was clean and close by, Karl left his house at a decent hour despite his plan to sleep away his day off. 

Back at Yuri’s apartment building, he’d grumpily pulled on a pair of sweats, looking presentable enough to make an appearance downstairs in the lobby. With a spare key in hand, Yuri slapped his front door closed behind him, bad attitude present and full force. He passed the elevators and paused in front of them. For a moment he pondered taking one downstairs like a normal person, but a shiver ran down his spine. He opted for the stairs. 

“Good morning, Mr. Plisetsky,” the new receptionist in the lobby of his apartment greeted him with a bright smile. She was young, pretty even, but she was dense beyond compare. 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” he griped and scowled at her. Her smile never faltered. “Have you seen a guy come through here at all? Brown hair, dark eyes?” She gave him a blank expression, his question going in one ear and right out the other. Yuri groaned. “Well if you see him, here’s a spare key. I’m going out.” 

Eleven flights of stairs later, Yuri kicked open his door only to slam it shut again. His shoulders hit the door. He cursed between heaving breaths. The sound of the door hitting the frame startled his poor kittens. Rusalka darted behind an armchair to hide from the noise. Ovinnik jumped six inches into the air. Yaga was calm, sensing Yuri’s distress. She crept in closer. When Yuri sank to the floor she crawled into his lap, offering what comfort she could provide. 

Yuri worked to even out his breath. He checked the time, only 8:32am. So this is what the morning looked like when he wasn’t traveling from country to country. With his heart thudding in his chest, he decided he didn’t like it. He ran his hand down the length of Yaga’s body. Her skin was a little balmy this morning, the same kind of coatedness that he felt before a shower. 

“Need a bath?” he asked out loud. 

Downstairs, the lobby doors opened and a big gust of frosty wind chilled the receptionist reading a magazine at her desk. She pulled a pouty face, looking up to scold whoever opened the door when she was met with a pair of warm brown eyes. Her expression softened. 

“Hi,” a tall young man with perfectly slept in brown hair greeted her with a smile. 

“Good morning,” she replied. For a minute she forgot what she was going to say. “Oh, are you here to see someone?” A pink blush capped her ears. 

“Yeah, Yuri Plisetsky.” 

“Oh, I see!” The receptionist pulled out the silver key Yuri had thrown at her head a little under an hour ago. “He left this for you,” she said, “he said he was going out, but I haven’t seen him come down yet. You caught him just in time!” He thanked her with a smile and turned to leave before she quickly blurted, “So, are you his friend? The one everyone’s talking about?” Karl looked at her over her shoulder. “I’m Yulia.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Yulia. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” He disappeared into the elevator. 

“No no no no no, Yaga what the fuck.” Yuri stood over his sink, holding a wriggling cat in one hand and shotgunning a third cup of coffee with the other. Yaga was covered in soapy lather, trying to eat the bigger bubbles and not quite understanding why they popped. She swatted at a few more, nearly falling into a sink full of water. “Jesus, do you have a deathwish?” Yaga didn’t seem to care about how close she’d come to drowning, content in playing with bubbles and warm water. 

Feeling his hands starting to shake again, Yuri eyed his cigarettes and finished cleaning Yaga’s ears. He’d tied his hair in a knot at the back of his head but it was coming loose, strands of gold falling into his eyes. The kitten purred as he carefully rinsed the suds from her skin, avoiding her wide mismatched eyes. As he was drying her off before she could make everything she touched uncomfortably damp, he heard a key scraping against the lock on his front door. 

“It’s open!” he called out before he realized what was happening. The door kicked open. He gasped, “Beka, where the fuck–”

Karl made a delighted little sound at the top of his register when two kittens greeted him at the door. Yuri deflated, all wet and covered in soap, holding a kitten that happily played with loose strands of his hair. 

“Wow,” Karl hummed, “Yuri, I’ve never seen you looking so… domestic.” He closed the door, minding the kittens circling his feet, and made his way over to him. Yuri didn’t react when Karl slipped a hand around his waist. His shock had just started to break when Karl brushed his hair from his eyes. “It looks good on you,” he mused, feeling compelled to press a chaste kiss to Yuri’s forehead. 

“What are you doing here?” Yuri managed to ask, holding Yaga where she couldn’t get either of them wet. 

“Well I know what it _looks_ like,” Karl smiled, “I’m coming home early to surprise my lovely, hardworking wife.” Yuri coughed, but not so much out of disgust as Karl expected. Reading the signs all wrong, Karl leaned in for a kiss and grimaced at a face full of wet kitten sniffing at his nose. He laughed to mask the embarrassment. “Ah, but the hardworking wife is still not too happy with her reliable husband.” 

Yuri turned over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on Karl just a second longer than he would if he were truly angry with him, and ducked back into the kitchen to dry off. Karl awkwardly fell backwards onto the couch where he was greeted by two curious kittens with a third running over to meet him. Yuri joined him soon after, perching himself delicately in one of the armchairs and pulling the rest of his hair loose. 

Something warm bloomed in Karl’s chest at the sight of Yuri caring for something so small and helpless and it wasn’t dying down, even now when Yuri tried to pretend it had never happened and believe he was still the apathetic bastard he wanted the world to think he was. Karl’s smile didn’t fully dissipate, the corners of his mouth still turned up. 

“So,” he started cheerfully, “you’re up early.” Yuri gave a vaguely shameful shrug. Karl noticed it but didn’t bring it up. “Three new roommates?” he pointed out with Rusalka making herself at home in his lap. 

“Rusalka, Ovinnik, and Yaga,” Yuri introduced. 

“Spooky, I like it.” Karl looked up and witnessed Yuri actually smile. It was gone before he could savor it but it was enough to be certain. “Come over here,” Karl beckoned, “there’s plenty of room under all this pussy.” Karl gave an evil little smirk. Yuri stuck his tongue out and made a playfully disgusted gagging noise at the back of his throat. He showed no signs of leaving his chair. “C’mon, Yuri, what’s wrong?” Any amount of playfulness under Yuri’s usual scowl disappeared and Karl feared he might’ve overstepped his boundaries. 

“What exactly did you see?” he questioned with vague motivation. “Last time. Before you left.” 

Karl shifted in place, “Nothing.” Yuri wordlessly warned him not to lie and he changed his answer. “I did my best not to hear anything. It looked like you needed some privacy.” Yuri considered this, unconsciously tucking his hair behind his ear and opening his face up. “Couldn’t help but notice him touching on you. Full disclosure, not a fan,” he tried to joke but it didn’t land. “Is he your boyfriend or something?” Karl asked seriously. 

“...It’s complicated,” Yuri dismissed, “sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” Karl’s smile fell. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Yuri looked away and tried to hide the way his hands were trembling. “Yuri,” Karl sat up, ready to listen, “if there’s something bothering you… you know you can tell me, right?” It seemed to be the right thing to say and Yuri shifted his weight. Karl was amazed when he actually opened up. 

“Listen,” Yuri’s voice dropped and his eyes flashed, “this didn’t happen, okay? The second you walk out of here, this conversation is gone from your memory.” Karl could barely nod, leaning forward just enough not to smother the kittens nibbling at his fingertips. “I don’t…” Yuri stopped himself, “I don’t know where to start.” 

“Tell me about him,” Karl offered some direction, “Is he an ice skater? Did you work with him? Or… I don’t know, did you meet in school?” 

“Skating is work,” Yuri retorted with a mean frown, “and I barely went to school.” 

“Oh…” Karl made note of this. “I– sorry, I didn’t know that.” 

“Don’t be stupid, yes you did.” 

“No, I didn’t,” he politely disagreed. Yuri was an ever-changing, uncrackable enigma. The best Karl could do was peer in from outside but the lock was giving on its own. “Skating can’t be all the work you do, what about off season? Were you homeschooled?” 

“I wasn’t homeschooled, I stopped going.” Yuri corrected him with a flash of his teeth that was meant to be fierce. Like a honey colored kitten, he turned up his nose. “I’m also a principal dancer with Mariinsky, and I model on the side.” Karl seemed intrigued. “What. There’s nothing exciting about being a mannequin. You don’t even need to speak or breathe or have a single thought in your head.” The vibe took a nosedive right into the dirt. “Can we talk about something else now…” 

“Yeah,” Karl complied and chose his next words carefully. “When did you meet?”

“Technically, when I was five,” Yuri let admitted, “but the first time we really spoke was in Barcelona and he pretty much kidnapped me and told me my eyes were unforgettable.” 

“What? Really?”

“Like a soldier’s...”

Karl watched Yuri flash a little smile, looking down at the floor and playing with a strand of his hair. His nose and cheeks blushed up. He worried his lower lip between his teeth and Karl’s heart jumped. Then it sank when he remembered who Yuri was really thinking about. 

“Any gory details you’re leaving out?” Karl pressed with lackluster enthusiasm. 

“No, that was pretty much it,” Yuri admitted. His eyes greyed a little. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” he suddenly changed the subject, shaking unwanted thoughts from his head. “What are you even doing here?” 

“It’s my day off and I’m spending it with you. I had a feeling you needed company.” Yuri softened up just a fraction, but it was a step in the right direction. “This is the first time you’ve told me anything about your past. I’m your friend and you need someone to talk to.” Yuri rolled his eyes, stubbornly employing his first line of defense. Karl observed and Yuri tucked his knees in closer to his chest, but he didn’t make him leave. “So, he’s not your boyfriend?”

“Stop saying that,” Yuri flatly commanded. 

Karl had stepped onto thin ice. He mentally prepared for the worst, but something in Yuri was hurting and he couldn’t tell how bad it was. “Did something happen?” Karl dove right in. “Where is he?” He sat forward, ready to listen. 

“I…” Yuri glanced over and Karl could see it right under the surface, a nebulous, disorienting pain. Yuri spoke just over a whisper, voicing things he hadn’t fully accepted yet. “He...” Yuri shook his head dismissively. “He ditched me,” he said, “kissed me in the locker room after I won my first Final and then just…” he threw a hand up in the air. “Four days ago was the first time I’d seen him since that day.” 

“What? Why? What the hell went wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” even Yuri was perplexed. “Maybe I was too young? He was eighteen, I was fifteen. I’ve spent years thinking about it and that’s all I could come up with.” 

“Maybe it was,” Karl looked for the bright side. “I mean, from what I saw it looked like the reunion was happy… You’re legal now, maybe that’s what did it.” Yuri’s stomach turned. He looked nauseated. 

“Woke me up, that’s for sure.” Like a shaken soda bottle, the words frothed and bubbled over. “Now I’m alive and painfully aware of _everything_. I’m gonna die alone, that’s great. That’s fine. Got some cats, that helps. I had a cat growing up. Now I don’t know what to do, I feel like I’m nothing without him. All of this work has been for nothing. I’ve just been trying to look busy in case he ever came back and it all got fucked up last year. I don’t even know what this is anymore. I don’t know why I do anything. I don’t like anything. I don’t feel any type of way, I’m just waiting.” He paused to catch his breath. “But there’s nothing to wait for,” he realized, “so now what?”

“What’s so good about him in the first place?” Yuri’s brow furrowed in absolute bewilderment. His nose started to run. It turned pink when he ran the back of his hand over it. “Do you even know?” The question hung in the air over their heads. 

“He doesn’t even _like_ her….” Yuri changed the subject. “He told me she was _nice,_ Karl.” Karl sucked his teeth. Even he knew what that meant. Their relationship was doomed but he wouldn’t say that out loud. Not with the way the misunderstanding of it all was making Yuri sick to his stomach. 

Yuri thought that if he could swallow his anger enough to remind Otabek of what used to be that he would see that he doesn’t love his girlfriend. It was a bold assumption to act upon, but he showed no signs of even being _attracted_ to her. That was his weakness and Yuri’s way in. 

“Yeah, and it turns out, I even knew her,” he continued outside of his control. “Her name’s Amelia and she definitely hates me. I kicked her out of a shoot a few months back. She was thinking about moving here, she’s from…” His eyes went wide as the moon. “Spain.” 

“Yuri…” At a loss for words, Karl sat in silence, taking in Yuri’s issue. He didn’t notice that the cats had curled up next to him. He wanted to say something, anything that would help Yuri at least temporarily forget this guy. But nothing remotely appropriate came to mind. His thoughts wandered down a path of Spanish models, Yuri’s wrath, and serendipity. 

“You need to leave, Karl,” Yuri couldn’t even look at him, just stared into space wondering how he hadn’t seen it before. “Just go home. Leave me alone.” 

“No, no way,” Karl refused. Yuri closed himself off, but he leaned across the coffee table to lay a hand on Yuri’s knee and command his attention. Yuri felt his touch like an electric shock. “You’ll have to kick me out with a little more conviction than that,” he said. “So the guy of your dreams fucked you over. That sucks, but it’s not your fault. He sounds like an asshole. He clearly doesn’t understand what he’s giving up, what he gave up in the past. We’ve known each other for a while now,” he paused, “right?” Yuri offered a small affirmative nod. “I was there before. I’m here now. I’m not leaving. I do see the value and I’m not stupid enough to give you up.” 

“Don’t you get it?” Karl could barely hear him and leaned forward. Yuri spoke into his lap, tilting his head to shield himself behind his hair. “I promised myself I would wait and I couldn’t. I’m not proud of sleeping with you. I hate myself for it. I should’ve waited...”

Karl swallowed down the wound and reminded him, “he didn’t wait for you either. He didn’t come back for you at all.” Scathed by the truth, Yuri hugged his legs closer to his chest. “I get it, Yuri. You’re heartbroken, but you’re only human. You can’t keep doing this to yourself and getting mad at me for trying to help you put the pieces back together.” Turning the corner into territory he knew better than to enter, Karl toed the line, then stepped over it. “Does he even know?” he questioned lowly. Yuri was stunned silent. 

“I was going to tell him...” he whispered. “He was here. He was in the city. He was _here!_ ” His eyes flooded with tears. “You should’ve seen the way he looked at me...” 

It was easy to coax him out of the chair and onto the couch. Powerful sobs thundered and boomed. He clung to Karl for dear life. In the back of his mind he was furious that Karl would ever bring up the one secret that would guarantee him a reaction like this, but he lacked the energy to act on that anger. All he could do was cry and watch the events unfold vividly in his mind’s eye. When it was over his throat was torn ragged and his muscles felt like jelly. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Karl reminded him, “no part of you deserved or asked for it. And you’re no less human for it either. As long as you want me to, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. No one’s ever going to look at you like that again.” 

“You’ve always been there,” Yuri recalled in little more than a whisper, “You were always around, always nearby, always had time for me. You’ve never even missed a call…” 

Yuri emerged with red splotches on his cheeks and forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, lashes wet with unshed tears he fought back. Yuri was tough, gritting his teeth and pulling himself together little by little. He hated to look weak. He had to be strong. Karl was impressed, knowing little of the horrors Yuri faced every day. He gave Yuri space to even his breathing and rub his eyes. Both were quiet for a while. 

“Are they asleep?” 

“Huh?” 

Yuri sighed unfolded his legs, leaning in to get a look at his kittens. They snoozed happily, lulled to sleep by Karl’s mild stroking. One by one, He picked them up, ensuring that they’d stay asleep, and handed them off to Yuri who he made his way across the living room. Though rage still burned up in his chest and glowed in his eyes, he was very careful with the little lives resting peacefully in his arms. “I…” he stopped short of his bedroom door, facing it with his back to Karl who waited on the couch. “They have to get used to the house. If they sleep in different rooms they get used to the smell,” he said, “wait right there.” 

Yuri pushed open the door with his foot and disappeared into the dark, leaving just enough room for Karl to peer in. Very rarely did Karl see the door to Yuri’s bedroom open. Their past affairs were kept mainly to any flat surface in the house excluding his room where guests were never allowed to venture. The door even had a lock, sealing it off to insiders and outsiders. 

The kittens laid down to rest in the center of his bed. Yuri was bravely confident that they wouldn’t wake up and venture off the edge. He waited, lowered his center of gravity in case one of them did decide to wake up and wander off, but the kittens were out and would be for a while. His hand slipped down to the doorknob as he pivoted back into the living room. Karl and Yuri locked eyes. Karl was halfway onto the coffee table just for a glimpse. 

“Um…” Karl made something up, “I thought I heard something…?” 

Yuri didn’t believe him. He liked his secrets, his privacy. Karl was the only one whose curiosity only grew the more he was denied. “Why do you care so much?” Yuri asked, genuinely misunderstanding. Karl was thoughtful, looking for the best answer to this test. 

“I just wanna get to know you,” he chose his words carefully, “the real you. That’s always been the goal. And maybe,” he ventured, “you wouldn’t feel so alone if you let me.” 

The look on Yuri’s face was unreadable. Karl held his breath and waited to be kicked out, but Yuri stepped to the side and the door swung open. 

“Look but don’t touch,” he ordered flatly, “if you’re so inclined.” 

Inside was simple but lived in while the rest of the house had the tendency to look a little too catalog for actual people to reside there. There was an enormous bookshelf packed to the rafters with magazines, mostly having published something involving Yuri, and books of all shapes and sizes, some with impressive titles in Russian, English, and even a few in Japanese. Yuri’s skates hung on the closet door, slightly open. And a beautiful dark-wood guitar leaned up against it. 

“You have a guitar?” Karl asked dumbly, grimacing the second the words left his mouth. 

“I’m _Russian Punk_ of course I have a guitar,” spat matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, right.” 

A few different and equally intriguing scenarios came to mind. He pictured Yuri being pretty good, or at the very least, decent enough to pretend he was. He wondered what he liked to play or if he wrote his own songs. Picturing Yuri at his deepest and most vulnerable was oddly fascinating. 

Yuri huffed and hung his head, arms wound tightly around his chest. “It was my mother’s,” he explained so softly Karl almost didn’t hear it. “I had a bass too, but I smashed it.” 

“It’s beautiful.” He wanted badly to touch it, to run his fingers over the strings but it was kept in pristine condition, cared for like a child. A jolt ran through Yuri like he’d been struck by lightning. His eyes went wide and fearful for a second before his gaze fell to the floor. 

“Don’t.” Yuri’s voice boomed lowly, vibrating through the air like the bass in his car. Karl turned to stone just shy of the headstock. On the back, the initials _O.N.P_ were carved in deep. He backed away slowly. 

Yuri was chewing on his lower lip and shaking like he was freezing to death. It went against everything he was to let a stranger into his sanctum that reflected his mind and wellness too perfectly for comfort. It was a cold, hollow place devoid of light. Karl followed Yuri out of his bedroom, grabbing one of his wrists to stop him from escaping. 

“Don’t touch me–” Yuri tried to wriggle free, inadvertently spinning right back into Karl’s chest. Trapped in a devoted embrace, he still resisted, but the slow beat of Karl’s heart got to him. He grumpily allowed himself to be held as the panic subsided. 

“I’m sorry.” Karl’s voice resounded in his chest, Yuri could hear the extra warmth with his head pressed against his heart. “I know that was hard for you, I’m so glad you trust me like that.” 

“I don’t,” Yuri plainly denied, “and don’t patronize me, I’m not a baby. What’s so special about a room anyhow?” Though he talked a big game, Yuri made himself right at home in Karl’s arms. It made him smile and hold him tighter, feeding touch-starvation with patient understanding. 

“I learned a lot,” he explained to the top of Yuri’s head, “I knew you liked to read, but I didn’t know how much. You even have a copy of _Dubliners._ ”

“You gave that to me, dumbass.” 

“You kept it.” Karl imagined Yuri perched in the window at his favorite coffee shop, breaking in the locker room, or lounging on his balcony reading a book that he recommended. He’ll have to find new things for Yuri to read, maybe that was his opening. But before he veered off in that direction, he had to know. “You never mention your parents either,” he pressed at his own risk. Yuri stiffened. “Where are they?” 

Karl flooded with regret when Yuri slowly and deliberately pushed him away. He wouldn’t meet his gaze. He looped around to where his bedroom door was still slightly ajar and loosed a stressed sigh. His hands raked through his hair, pulling at the roots to ground himself in reality when all he wanted was to fade away. 

“I’m sorry,” Karl apologized, “I didn’t know, I’m sorry…” 

“Don’t be.” Yuri wanted to slam his bedroom door so badly, but he settled for closing it gently with a fierce scowl to be kind to his kittens. “I don’t fucking care,” he went on, crossing his arms. “I mean it would be great if they were dead, that would make sense, right? Well I have no idea. I have no idea where anyone is, and I don’t care. Does it look like I care? Cuz I don’t.” He scoffed, “people are so fucking selfish…” 

“Hey,” Karl purred in a calming voice. He took hold of Yuri’s face, guiding his chin up and letting their eyes meet. Karl had to bite his tongue to hold back a smile at the way Yuri’s cheeks squished under his fingers. “I believe you,” he reassured, but the words were meaningless. Yuri’s lashes swooped over his eyes slowly. Both leaned in nice and close, but Yuri froze at the last second. Karl silently apologized but Yuri was lost in thought. 

Yuri finally felt the courage to really think about where he was and what was happening around him. He’d woken up this morning and Otabek was gone. Despite Yuri’s best effort, even after he played cards he didn’t fully understand how to play, Otabek was gone and he had to face that. Without even having to ask, Karl was there and he was more than willing to fill the cavity. 

Yuri screwed his eyes shut tight. “God, I’m so fucking _pathetic_.” 

“What–”

Pulling him down by the back of his neck, Yuri smashed their lips together but quickly lost control. He was ready for fast pace, to be swept away, he even let out an excited little _mm!_ on accident the moment their lips met. He dropped his jaw and Karl took the chance to invade his mouth, but time seemed to stop right then and there. 

Letting out another soft sound, Yuri succumbed to a ticklish, fluttering feeling in his lower belly he’d only experienced a handful of times in his life. He melted with each calculated glide of Karl’s tongue against his until Karl had to hoist him up into his arms. Yuri locked his ankles around Karl’s waist, using his thighs and the doorframe to keep upright as shocks rocketed up and down his spine. He whined when Karl kissed off his lips to look into his eyes. 

Without a word spoken aloud, Karl briskly carried Yuri into the guest room and laid him out among expertly folded blankets and orderly pillows. Yuri dug his nails into the flesh of Karl’s shoulders to pull him close, intertwining their legs. Yuri could feel Karl smirk against his throat, taking a cheap shot at a secret soft spot just below the hard angle of his jaw. Yuri hissed when Karl’s jaw dropped and took to his flesh. He held his breath as Karl ran his fingers through his hair, sealing his lips over the light bruise left behind. The memory of what he'd seen of Yuri and Otabek seeped aggression into the pressure of his kiss. Feeling Karl grab his waist, Yuri gasped, shivering at the thought of being sensually eaten alive. The light scratch of teeth at his throat loosed a shaky mew. And soon a barely-there welt that would fade in an hour was deep and dark. 

“Yuri,” Karl backed up enough to see his face. “I don’t know if I can just be friends. I... I want this. I want this with you.” A full body shudder looked promising. The innocent confusion in Yuri’s eyes was not. 

“Friends fuck all the time,” Yuri replied as a matter of fact. Karl was admittedly taken aback, forced to use the word _naive_ to describe what he was seeing. Naive in a twisted, backwards sense of the word. 

“I– I mean,” Karl coughed, not quite knowing what to say, “they can, I guess, but… I want to be with you, I want this to mean something to you.” 

“You wanna be with me, but you _don’t_ wanna be my friend…” Yuri reasoned out loud, “sounds kinda ass-backwards. Wouldn’t that just be hate fucking?” 

“What exactly is your definition of _friend_?”

“Shut up already.” Slapping a hand around the back of his neck, Yuri pulled Karl down to meet in the middle for another heated kiss. Yuri clawed Karl’s shirt up to his armpits, whining in the microsecond it took to get it over his head before he took Karl’s bottom lip between his teeth. Yuri pawed around blindly at the nightstand, looking for the condoms and lube he hid in every room in the house when something clattered to the ground, rattling against the wall. 

“Shit,” Karl cursed under his breath, giving a half-hearted glance around at the floor before going in on Yuri’s throat. Yuri swatted him away, feeling the need to find whatever he dropped before he forgot about it and lost it forever. 

“Get off me for a sec, I think I see it.” 

Twisting his spine in a way only dancers could, Yuri stretched to reach what felt like a small wooden box that fell behind the nightstand. After getting his hand stuck for a fleeting moment, Yuri held the box up in the light. Karl was invested now, looking deeply curious, but a familiar sinking feeling plummeted Yuri’s heart to the bottom of his stomach. The box had ornate carvings on it, filled in with black and gold to compliment the red of the wood. With quivering fingers Yuri pushed open the top to reveal an antique gold ring featuring a teardrop-shaped cut of turquoise. 

“What is that?” Karl asked innocently enough, unable to feel Yuri’s blood turn to ice and his heart turn to stone. “Here, let me–”

“Don’t touch me.” 

Yuri wriggled out from underneath him like he was stricken with the sudden need to vomit. He all but ran out of the room, leaving Karl alone to wonder what the hell just happened.

* * *

Otabek missed the train and he didn’t have time to wait for the next one. Yuri’s house was four miles away. An hour to walk, but only thirty minutes if he ran. Fifteen if he sprinted. He gave it all he had, but twenty-four minutes passed before he closed in on Yuri’s apartment complex. He smashed into the front doors, scaring an elderly couple in the lobby. With the last of his energy, he approached the reception desk, face flushed and lungs aching. 

“In a rush?” a cute receptionist raised a sarcastic brow at her own wit. Otabek could barely nod. 

“Yuri,” he gasped, leaning on the desk for support, “is he home?” Her eyes grew three sizes. Her cheeks flushed pink. 

“Oh,” she blinked, “so there’s _two_ of you.” Otabek openly panted, giving her a vaguely confused look but mostly focused on regaining his breath. “Yuri said to give the spare key to a man with brown hair and brown eyes,” she explained, “I think I might’ve given it to the wrong–”

“Will you buzz me in or not?” Otabek rudely interrupted her. “It’s really important.” 

The receptionist looked him up and down, swallowing a mouthful of saliva at the way his frustration heightened his heaving chest and the heat in his eyes. For a second she thought she heard him growl low in his throat and she smoothed her hands over her skirt. 

“What’s your name, sir?” she asked politely, pulling out a pen and paper. 

“Otabek Altin.” 

“Ah,” she took her time in forming each letter, “and where are you from?” Otabek really furrowed his brow now, his breathing evening out. 

“How is this relevant?” he questioned. She waited in silence, batting long fake lashes and smiling like a barbie doll. He sighed. “I’m from Kazakhstan,” he admitted. 

“Uh huh…” she seemed to be writing something else down. “And… your phone number?” 

Otabek rolled his eyes, turning over his shoulder to rush towards the elevators. “Nice try,” he mumbled, “I’m taken.” 

“By who?” she called after him. But he was already gone. 

Tapping the eleventh floor button seven times more than he needed, Otabek waited impatiently as it passed each floor with a ding. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, praying to all the deities he could think of for Yuri to have overlooked the ring. Otabek knew if he saw it, Yuri would stop listening. He wouldn’t hear that Otabek had postponed the engagement. He wouldn’t hear it when Otabek would tell him that he might not _ever_ call it back on. 

“Yuri,” he called into the house, blindly searching for signs of life. “Yuri–” His eyes locked onto an admittedly good-looking guy standing over the sink. He flashed perfect teeth as he hissed in stinging pain. He pressed a washcloth over his wrist. Brown hair, brown eyes.

“Oh,” Karl exclaimed flatly, “it’s you.” They skipped the pleasantries and inane questions. “I’m patching myself up,” Karl replied to an unspoken question, never so much as blinking away searing eye contact. He showed off a small, circular welt. “Cigarette burn.” Otabek narrowed his eyes. Somehow they grew even darker. He shrugged off his coat, laying it over an armchair like he didn’t plan on leaving any time soon. “Where’s your fiance?” Karl accused. The tone of his voice made Otabek grind his teeth. He knew he radiated a warning not to push him too far. He was already teetering on the edge and Karl could sense it. “You’re the cause of a shitty situation,” he let him know, “He’s out on the balcony. I doubt you’ll do any better than I did.” 

From behind the glass doors white with frost, Otabek could see the vague outline of Yuri’s body sitting cross-legged on the floor of the balcony. He stared out over the city over a hundred feet below. Steadily sliding the doors open just wide enough for Otabek to fit, he stepped out onto the balcony and the north wind threw him back against the door. The air stung like a thousand knives, biting into his skin with dozens of sharp gnashing teeth. Mere seconds and his nose was numb and the corners of his eyes prickled with frost. 

Yuri sat on the ground in nothing but a t-shirt and boxer shorts. All color had disappeared from his skin. Even his lips were almost white, the next shade would be blue. His hair hung in limp chunks, the moisture from a morning shower now completely frozen solid. His whole body trembled so hard it made his teeth chatter, only quieted for a few moments at a time by weak inhales at a half-out cigarette. Seven or eight dead butts had been snuffed out on the ground beside him. On his the second to last finger on his left hand sat the ring. 

“Yuri…?” Otabek was almost too mortified to speak. Yuri didn’t react, sitting eerily still aside from the trembling, almost like he didn’t even notice Otabek edging closer. But he did, he felt his presence like an impending tsunami. 

“It was your Grandmother’s,” Yuri stammered, “she gave it to you before she died and told you to give it to someone you love.” Yuri couldn’t bend the joints in his fingers at all as he raised his hand to gaze into the turquoise teardrop at the center. “You told me that. You showed it to me. You kept it with you for good luck.” Yuri’s eyes welled up and overflowed past frozen lashes.

Otabek fell silent, almost forgetting where they were until a big gust of wind froze Yuri’s tears as they fell from his eyes. Otabek had to set aside the sharp pains in his belly. Yuri was in real danger. 

“Yuri, come on. Let’s go inside.” The moment Otabek’s hand made contact with Yuri’s skin, Yuri hissed like he’d touched an open flame. “You’re cold as ice. Please, Yuri, just get up.” The warmth was overwhelming and Yuri attacked it with the burning end of his twelfth cigarette today, pressing it into the top of Otabek’s hand. Otabek could feel it happening so slowly like Yuri wanted it to hurt as much as possible but Yuri could barely move at all. 

Wrapping a bare arm around Yuri’s body he could feel that his skin was cold to the touch. Yuri breathed slow and shallow breaths. His heart beat slow and exhausted in his chest. His eyes were rolling to the back of his head, lashes slowly sinking down. Yuri seemed to stop shivering, but that was the worst sign of them all. 

“Karl!” 

“Wait, how the fuck do you know my–” 

“Shut your mouth and start pulling the blankets off the beds!” 

Otabek rushed to the couch, using his own body heat to will the cold from Yuri’s skin. “Look right here. Can you hear me? Look at me, Yuri. Open your eyes.” Otabek held Yuri’s face forward, begging him to stay awake. He still wasn’t shivering. If he passed out, Otabek would have to call an ambulance. He fought everything inside him telling him to rub color back into Yuri’s cheeks and lips. He was so pale, but that would only make it worse. Karl returned from the guest bedroom with blankets, focusing the thickest one around Yuri’s torso. After a few minutes, he started shaking. “Good, good, keep shivering. Can you cough? Can you swallow?” A childlike sense of blinding terror filled Yuri’s eyes with tears. “You have to try. Keep shivering and try to swallow.” 

Yuri sucked in a thin breath and tried to swallow, but with his mouth as dry as a bone it didn’t seem to work. Otabek told Karl to hold his hands over Yuri’s temples to warm him until Yuri could swallow, cough, and breathe satisfying breaths. They leaned Yuri against the arm of the couch, Otabek using all the movement to slide the ring off of Yuri’s finger without him really noticing. 

“Why did you do that?” Otabek wondered mostly to himself. Yuri barely registered his environment and wouldn’t be lucid until he was warm. Otabek worked out the bigger chunks of ice stuck in Yuri’s hair, looking up at Karl with fiery, blaming eyes. Karl was lost in his own head, trying to process how close Yuri had just come to a potentially tragic circumstances. “Karl, tell me what happened,” Otabek demanded. “You let him go out there _soaking wet?_ ” 

“What? No!” Karl suddenly returned to his body. “He saw the ring and walked out onto the balcony. When he didn’t come out after a while, I went to go get him and he burned me.” 

“So you just left him out there?” Otabek growled. The power of his voice thrummed through Yuri’s chest where he clung to him for warmth, slowly understanding what was going on. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened? He could’ve died!” 

“It was your dumb ass that didn’t hide that goddamn ring better!” Karl raised his voice, “Every day this week I’ve been calming panic attacks _you_ brought on. It’s getting worse and _you’re_ the problem.” Karl only just realized he wasn’t entirely sure what this guy’s name was. Otabek was silent. He waited a cautious second before the air seemed to tell him he’d won. 

“Come here,” Otabek beckoned, seeming defeated, “help me keep him warm.” Karl crossed the room in a single stride, realizing too late that he’d walked into a trap. Otabek’s hand shot out and closed around Karl’s throat, yanking him in nice and close. The air filled with the stench of hellfire. “If it’s such a burden to you why did you even bother trying to help?” Otabek squeezed a little harder. “You’re not taking advantage of him are you?” Karl adamantly shook his head, eyes wide and staring into a combined bottomless void. “Just being a friend?” 

“What does that even mean to you people? Of course I want to be his friend, but–”

“N-No,” a muffled voice trembled under a mountain of blankets. Karl couldn’t see his face, but Yuri’s grip on Otabek’s shoulder tightened. “B-Both of you, shut the fuck up. I’ll g-go where I d-damn well please. I’m f… _f-fucking_ grown.” 

“But–”

“Yuri–”

“I’ll kick your ass.” Yuri’s face poked out from under the blankets and if looks could kill they would never find the bodies. Yuri wanted to say something else but he remained silent, having spent the small amount of energy he rebuilt. 

A rough shiver shook Yuri’s bones and Otabek tucked him back under the blankets. Yuri was still alarmingly cold, but the color slowly returned to his cheeks, a bright blush flushing his skin as his blood pooled to reheat his skin. He worked the stiffness out of his joints by holding onto Otabek for dear life. He was so warm and familiar. Yuri buried his nose in Otabek’s chest and found home. He glanced down at his left hand buried between them. The ring was gone. 

“You’re getting married?” Yuri asked in a small voice. Otabek could feel the question vibrate against his chest. Then he could feel his shirt absorb the moisture of Yuri’s tears as old ones melted and new ones manifested. “You met her in Spain. Five years ago…” A gasp caught in Otabek’s throat as it constricted. He couldn’t breathe. “You lied to me,” Yuri realized, “right from the beginning.” 

“No…” Otabek mouthed. No sound came out. “Yuri, _no….”_

“I waited,” he confessed softly, “I waited for as long as I could. After Grandpa…. It was a mistake. I wanted to wait for you but I was so sad and confused. I just wanted it to stop, Beka.” Yuri looked up at him with watery eyes and Otabek’s heart slowed to a stop. He forced himself to bear the full weight of Yuri at the most wounded he’d _ever_ seen him. “We’re we even friends?” Otabek choked. When he didn’t say anything, Yuri’s face shattered. His voice cracked. “You’re getting _married?_ ” Feeling like he could cry for the first time since he was a little boy, Otabek shook his head slowly. 

“It’s not what you think, I swear,” he all but whispered. He pushed back Yuri’s hair, swept tears from his eyes as they grew more and more clear, more and more understanding. “I swear to God, Yuri, I swear to _God._ Stop thinking like that.” Yuri could tell Otabek wanted to say something else and he could feel how important it was. It would wash away everything Yuri wanted to say and he had to make this known. He shrank away, looking deep into Otabek’s eyes with a hard stare. 

“All they ever wanted was to fuck me,” He tried to will away the break in his voice. Yuri gripped the collar of Otabek’s shirt and looked him dead in the eyes. “I waited for so long... but you were just like them.” Otabek’s mouth opened but no sound came out. “Maybe I did want it…” he thought out loud, and accepted it as truth. Silence. A cold sweat collected at the nape of Yuri’s neck. He was warm enough to move away. “Just get out. Get your shit and leave. Don’t come back.” 

The edges of Otabek’s vision turn black. His blood ran cold. Yuri wasn’t looking at him. His worst fear had been recognized. Yuri found the ring. He was hurt and he’d stopped listening. 

“Oh, no worries, I’ll help you move out.”

With a loud thud, Karl exacted his revenge. He gathered all of Otabek’s things in the guest room, stuffed them all in his bag and launched it out the door. The wheels of his luggage hit the wall with a scraping clack. 

“It’s really no trouble,” Karl added with a perfectly punchable smirk. 

Yuri swaddled himself in blankets, rolling over and shivering into the back of the couch. Karl was immediately at his side. 

“You too,” Yuri ordered flatly, no fight left in him at all. “Just leave me alone.” Karl wanted to protest, his mouth opening and closing again around several attempts before he grudgingly compiled on one condition. 

“How do I know you won’t try to pull a stunt like that again?” he questioned expectantly. Yuri balled himself up tighter. 

“You don’t.” 

Karl sucked his teeth and cursed under his breath, wanting to do right by Yuri but he wasn’t sure what that was. “I’m gonna call you in an hour,” he decided, “If you don’t answer I’m coming back for you.” He bent to kiss Yuri’s wet hair, but Yuri shrank away. After a stretch of silence, Karl exited the apartment. 

And right into a swift right hook landing smack on his jaw. 

“Agh! What the fuck!” Karl clutched at the side of his face and saw the look on Otabek’s face. His life flashed before his eyes, blinding him from dodging another clean blow. 

“You have no idea,” he loosed a feral growl. “You have _no idea_ what this means!” Karl opened his mouth wide enough to pop his nearly dislocated jaw back into place, breathing sharply through his nose. “I came here to get married because after this year she can’t bear children anymore. She asked me if I would help her and this is the only way I know how. I don’t want to be with her. I don’t love her. But she helped me when I needed her and now she needs me. I’m just trying to do it right but I can’t.” Otabek swallowed guiltily. He couldn’t control it, everything he wanted to say to Yuri was pouring out of him in this corridor with Yuri’s other lover. 

“I’ve never been the bad guy,” he admitted. “All I ever want to do is make everyone happy and I failed. I never came back. Eventually he got tired of waiting. So if all you want is to show the world that you slept with Yuri Plisetsky, that’s fine. So be it. He’ll probably let you. But know deep down that he doesn’t deserve to be treated like an object and he is too good for you.” Otabek turned away, headed for the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setangel, said to update again and who am i to say no? (im super dead inside lmfaoooooo )

The birds sang sweetly in the trees, the sun rising overhead. Two bodies lied comfortably in a warm bed, one with his legs curled into his body and one behind to hold him tight. Bright ocean eyes opened slowly and roved over the outlines of the body in front of him as it breathed softly. Even after Yuuri had retired from competitive skating and moved his entire life to Russia, he still kept himself slim. He was pure and honest when he told Victor that he wanted to look good for him, and Victor had swelled with pride and admiration, but it still saddened him to know that Yuuri didn’t consider himself as beautiful without carefully watching his weight. He hoped that deep down, Yuuri knew that Victor would cherish him no matter what. In fact, he loved the way Yuuri felt in his hands, so soft and welcoming. 

Sneaking a hand under the sheets, Victor pulled them away. Yuuri shivered and Victor compensated for the loss of heat by pressing his chest to Yuuri’s back. He idly traced little white stretch marks that outlined Yuuri’s hips and thighs, burying his nose in Yuuri’s hair to breathe him in. With a few prods airing too close on the side of tickling, Yuuri was coaxed to wakefulness. With unruly hair pointing every which way, Yuuri rolled onto his back to sleepily squint in Victor’s direction. 

“Are you going to do this every morning?” Yuuri questioned in perfect Russian, reaching for his glasses. 

When they decided to make their home in St. Petersburg, Victor and Yuuri worked diligently to learn each other’s mother tongue. Yuuri picked up Russian faster than Victor learned Japanese. Some thought it was because Victor was too easily distracted by watching Yuuri’s every move with a contented smile. Yuri had always said it was because Victor was old and stupid. 

Victor grinned, the size of his smile digging deep grooves into his cheeks. “Why, am I tickling you?” he asked, poking Yuuri’s bare skin. Yuuri jolted, and the onslaught began. 

“Stop!” Yuuri begged between fits of hushed laughter. He squirmed away from Victor’s hands tracing over his belly and sides. “Stop, you’ll break my glasses!” Victor’s fingertips grazed lightly over his skin and Yuuri had to clamp a hand down over his mouth. He gave up on fighting it, weakly pushing at Victor’s shoulders to get him away. Satisfied with the flush that tinted Yuuri’s cheeks he settled down, lying on top of him with a wide smile. “Good morning,” Yuuri giggled. 

“Morning,” Victor replied wistfully. Victor could look into those eyes all day, deep brown and slightly magnified under his glasses. Yuuri blushed even more under the weight of Victor’s devotion. There was nothing else in the world to Victor but Yuuri when he’d just woken up, nothing more perfect and honest to love and hold than his husband in his purest form. 

Even after four years of marriage, shocks rolled up Yuuri’s spine when they kissed hello. Even in the morning when their lips were tired and uncoordinated, it took Yuuri’s breath away. He still couldn’t accept how he’d gotten here, and apparently neither did Victor. 

“How did I get this lucky?” he purred happily, gluing their foreheads together. Yuuri gave an embarrassed little cough of laughter. “No, I’m serious,” Victor went on, “I wake up every morning and there you are. And you’re beautiful and sweet and kind…” Victor remembered something and his eyes lit up. He sat up. “Come here. I have something to show you.” 

Pulling Yuuri out of bed, Victor led him down the hall. Padding quietly past the bathroom, they stopped at a half-closed bedroom door. Yuuri peeked his head in first. Inside the room were two twin beds on opposite walls with a dresser between them. On the right side, the bed was empty. The sheets were peeled back and the pillow was rumpled but there was no one asleep in it. Yuuri panned his eyes over to the second bed and saw two heads of hair, one dark brown and one golden blonde, poking out from under the blankets. 

“Those are our daughters,” Victor kept his voice down but the sheer pride that echoed through it made Yuuri’s heart swell. 

Stella had crawled out of bed in the night to snuggle with her sister, Akari, in her bed. Akari had probably sat up in the middle of the night and stared over at Stella until she woke up. She could sense her sister’s unrest in her heart like it was herself that was uneasy. Stella awoke and saw huge celeste eyes looking back at her. Akari only had to wave and Stella jumped out of bed to make her feel less lonely. It’s happened before. Though they were different in so many ways, they definitely possessed that connectedness that twins were known to have. 

Yuuri backed away from the door and into Victor’s arms. “I love you, Yuuri,” he whispered, “I’m so glad you’re mine.” Yuuri spun and slapped his hands onto Victor’s cheeks and pressed their mouths together. He could feel Victor smiling against his lips. 

“I love you too,” Yuuri replied gladly. “Let’s wake them up.” 

Elated like a puppy dog, Victor hurried into the room and knelt down at the side of the bed where his daughter’s slept soundly. Lips red and ruddy with life, long lashes sweeping over their cheeks, he almost didn’t want to wake them up at all. He trembled with the urge to throw open all the windows and sing to anyone passing by. He wanted to tell everyone about his daughters. Every new thing they discovered or learned how to do made him love them that much more. Victor looked up at Yuuri with an ardent tenderness, silently thanking him for giving him more than he could’ve ever hoped for. 

Brushing blonde waves out of her face, Victor whispered Stella’s name, gradually awakening her. She clung to her sister and opened her eyes. She smiled wide, just like her fathers. Yuuri made it to the side of the bed in time for her to sit up and bury her face in Victor’s chest. Akari sat up next, rubbing sleep from her eyes. 

“Papa! Totou!” Stella exclaimed, letting go of Victor to leech onto Yuuri. 

“Morning, girls,” Victor greeted them in Japanese, honoring the agreement to speak Japanese at home and Russian on the go. In the first three years of their lives, their daughters were already bilingual. They would learn English in school, and then they would be truly unstoppable. Victor laughed, “Still sleepy, Akari?” She nodded with a quiet yawn. Though she was quite capable of speech, she didn’t talk much. Not when Stella would happily do it for her. 

“Papa,” Stella was right to business and she hadn’t even left her sister’s bed, “are you going to see Yuya today?” She blinked light lashes over big castory eyes, looking back and forth between her dads. 

Victor and Yuuri smirked at yet another Japanese nickname given to Yuri against his will. In the same way that he only accepted _Yurio_ from Mari, he only accepted _Yuya_ from Stella and Akari who found it too confusing to have a father and a pseudo-brother with the same name. At first, Yuri was taken with calling them his nieces, but Stella staked her claim as soon as she could talk. Yuri was now Yuya and he was her brother. Yuri happily accepted his fate, it was no secret how much he loved his new little sisters. They brought out the best in him. 

“Yes, my little star, I’ll be spending all day with Yuya and Yakov.” 

“Tell him to come home!” Stella huffed dramatically. She crossed her arms over her chest like she did when she refused to accept _no_ as an answer. Victor’s smile never faltered. 

“Is that okay with you too?” He asked permission from Akari, peering into eyes she inherited from himself. She nodded insistently, not quite awake enough to smile with all her heart but if there was anyone she opened up to it was Yuri. He was quiet enough to hear what she had to say. Yuuri seemed to agree that Yuri was a presence missing in their lives these past few days. “Then I’ll bring him home after practice,” Victor decided, “Maybe in time to pick you up from school?” Stella squealed. Akari covered her ears, but gave an excited smile all the same.

“But before all of that, we need breakfast, don’t we?” Yuuri chimed in. The girls popped out of bed and headed for the bathroom with Victor trailing behind. “I’ll get it started if you want to shower,” Yuuri added. After another quick kiss, he headed for the kitchen. 

Victor was in and out of the shower pretty fast this morning, taking a mere thirty minutes which was good for him. He only stopped to whine about his hairline threatening to recede twice. Dressed up to shirt and slacks with his shoes to follow, Victor crept out into the kitchen with hopes to surprise Yuuri but the kitchen was empty. With a frown, Victor changed his course towards the girls’ room and found them struggling through getting dressed. 

“Papa, I need help,” Stella complained with her face poking out from the left sleeve of her sweater. Akari fared no better. Temporarily distracted from his mission, Victor glided over to free his daughter. The more she squirmed the more she suffocated herself. Victor swiftly pulled the sleeve off of her head, her hair catching static and sticking to the air itself. She screwed her face up in a humiliated pout, but thanked him as politely as she could through her frustration. 

“Have you seen Totou?” Victor knelt down to level with his girls, calming the electricity from Stella’s hair. “He’s not in the kitchen.” Stella and Akari exchanged a half-worried look that Victor recognized. It was the only gesture in their secret language he’d been able to decipher. All three of them came to the same conclusion. 

“Egor.”

With the twins following Victor like ducklings, they made their way past the kitchen and into the living room where Victor had to stop just short of the couch. Tall enough to see over it, he covered his mouth to hide a laugh. The girls split off to run around the couch to see what was so funny. An enormous mass of marbled fur sprawled out on the floor in front of the fireplace. Two arms waved at the girls from underneath it. 

“Hi girls,” Yuuri gave a muffled mumble. Stella slapped her hands to her cheeks and screamed bloody murder. 

“Egor! You _ate_ him?!” Akari rolled her eyes. 

“No no no, Stella,” Yuuri blindly groped around the floor looking for her hands. She grabbed onto him desperately. “It’s okay, baby, he didn’t eat me,” Yuuri reassured from under a mountain of fur, “but he sure did sit on me.” 

Egor was the newest addition to the family. After gradually accepting Makkachin’s peaceful passing, Victor and Yuuri were ready for another dog. They had their eyes on some poodles when a little black and tan puppy caught Victor’s eye. He brought him home and the girls approved of him right away, but Victor forgot to mention that Egor was a caucasian shepherd until after he’d doubled in size overnight. 

“He’s not even fully grown,” Yuuri complained under a happy, slobbering dog.

“He loves you,” Victor reassured, heading over to free Yuuri from his furry prison. Egor rolled off easily, pulling a leash hooked onto his collar along the floor. Yuuri was going to walk him and Egor, much too happy to see him with the leash, took him down easily to lick all over Yuuri’s face. Stella stomped right over, stepping over her dad to scold her dog. 

“Egor!” she huffed, “No sitting on Totou, you’re hurting him!” Egor replied with a lazy harrumph, rolling onto his back in search of belly rubs. Yuuri wriggled out from under Egor’s fur with Victor’s help. Akari had long since gone back to her room to finished getting dressed. As soon as Yuuri was on his feet, Victor was pressing loving pecks all over his face and neck. 

“I’ll take him out,” Victor offered.

“Will you?” Victor nodded insistently, waving Egor over who lumbered over with the end of the leash in his mouth. Yuuri sighed in relief. “I’m going to go make coffee,” Yuuri said, “I have to wash down all the hair I swallowed.” Egor whined at Yuuri, poking his leg with his nose for attention. “You tried to kill me today. Victor’s walking you.” 

Victor stepped off the front steps with his enormous dog in tow. Egor spent a lot of time outside in the backyard, but either Victor or Yuuri still walked him every morning and every evening so he could see the world around him. Victor smiled at his neighbors, stopping to chat with a few of them. Some of them secretly judged him but that was their prerogative. Nothing could sway him or shake his happiness. The sun shined brighter through his eyes. 

“Good morning!” Victor chimed through his phone, answering the fifth call from the same number. 

_“Vitya! Where in God’s name are you?!”_

“I’m not due for another hour?” Victor’s voice drew up the last word like a question. He immediately regretted it and wondered when he’d become a teenage girl. He cleared his throat. “What’s the matter, I thought you’d be warming up,” he amended a little more maturely. 

_“Yurochka isn’t here! I figured he was with you, is he not?!”_

He sighed, “Yakov, breathe. You know stress this early in the morning is bad for your heart–”

_“VICTOR!”_

“Calm down! Don’t make me call Lilia. She was so proud of your progress.”

 _“You wouldn’t dare.”_

“I would. Because I care about you. Two heart attacks is more than enough.”

_“Yeah, one for Yuri and one for you, Victor.”_

“Are you even sure he’s ditching? He could just be running late, he does that a lot.”

_“It’s been six days.”_

“What–”

_“He hasn’t shown up for training every day for six days.”_

Victor groaned, looping around the park with Egor pulling at the leash when he walked too slow. The house was in sight, through the windows, he could make out his family getting ready for breakfast. Victor groaned again. 

“Fine. I’ll go to his apartment.”

_“Family men make sacrifices–”_

“We’ll be there as soon as possible.” 

Unhooking the leash, Victor let Egor gallop into the house first. The girls jumped up from their seats at the breakfast bar to bury their hands in Egor’s fur and Victor gave a sad smile that he thought no one would notice. The girls rubbed Egor’s belly and laughed when his back legs kicked at the air, but Yuuri was staring right at him. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered in English, stepping over the dog on his way to Victor, the ultimate code of defense against daughters that were smarter than both of them. “Victor, what happened?” 

“Yuuri, I’m sorry.”

“What, what?” 

Victor sighed, his eyes cast down. “I have to miss breakfast,” he deadpanned like his entire day was ruined. “I’m a terrible father.” Yuuri’s shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile gracing his face. 

“No you’re not,” he reassured softly. “This is the first time you’ve _ever_ missed breakfast. I miss it all the time.”

“Because you need your rest and I think you’re precious when you’re asleep.” Yuuri flushed and Victor couldn’t help but trace it with his thumbs. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised with a kiss to the center of Yuuri’s forehead. Victor huffed a frustrated exhale that fogged Yuuri’s glasses ever so slightly. “Yuri missed _six days_ of training. I have to go find out why and hopefully teach him a new flip.” Yuuri frowned, concerned for Yuri but he had to set it aside when Victor unexpectedly mouthed at his throat. “I’m sorry, tell me I’m bad.”

“Okay, okay! You’re horrible, Victor, how dare you save the day. What will our children think of you?” Victor swooped in for an apologetic kiss. He could tell Yuuri wasn’t at all upset with him even if he did feel like he was letting everyone down. He loved that Yuuri would humor him though. “He’s probably hungover and you know he only listens to you. He needs you to take care of him, so go.” Victor reluctantly agreed, thinking about the terrible coffee he’d have to stop for on the way to Yuri’s apartment. Russia refused to accommodate his need for quality Ethiopian coffee. Yuuri stifled a laugh at the grimace on Victor’s face. “Hey,” Yuuri distracted, “You’re in trouble when you get home.” A little clumsy on the execution, but Yuuri’s little threat put an impish grin on Victor’s face. 

“Promise?” Feeling embarrassment starting to take hold, Yuuri kept quiet and kissed through the awkwardness, looking over his shoulder to be sure the girls were still distracted by the dog. Victor pulled him closer to the door to hide in their blind spot and let his eyes slip shut. Breaking the kiss to glue their foreheads together was a difficult choice to make. “I’ll pick the girl’s up from school. If Yuri’s able, I’ll bring him home too.” 

Yuuri couldn’t resist one more loving peck. “Sounds great.” 

“Ew!” a seldom heard voice wailed. Akari made a disgusted noise at the back of her throat and stuck out her tongue. Stella’s jaw was on the floor. 

“No?!” she offendedly disagreed. Without a second thought, Stella tackled her twin, smothering her in hugs and kisses. “You love it, see?” she shouted over Akari’s screams and giggles. At the sight of her dads prowling closer she screamed even louder. Even Egor shuffled over to soak her face in drool. Akari dissolved into breathless giggles and Victor kissed both of his daughters goodbye.

“See you after school, my loves, I have to go pick Yuya up from his house.” 

“Can we come?!” Stella chirped. Akari’s eyes sparkled. 

“Not this time,” Victor had to deny and their disappointment put a bad taste in his mouth. He hated to say _no_ to them. 

“He’s coming after school,” Yuuri chimed in from the kitchen, “but only if you finish your breakfast.” They were up in a flash, darting to the bar for omurice and daily vitamins. Stella might’ve stepped on Egor’s tail but he barely reacted with a puff of sound. 

“All my love, girls!” Victor called from the door.

“Bye, Papa!” 

“ _I love you._ ” Victor was halfway out the door, mouthing at Yuuri like he was suddenly afraid of his daughters hearing when they could see him clearly. _“I’ll be home soon._ ”

“Go,” Yuuri prompted out loud, and Victor headed off in the direction of Yuri’s apartment.

* * *

The only way he could tell that time was passing was the kittens. Every few hours they would station on the floor beside his bed and lap at his fingers until they moved. It would disappear for a moment, then return with a handful of dry food to be dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. In the distance, the sink in the kitchen was running on high and had been for the last few days. That was where the kittens got their water. Without Yuri’s help, they grew strong and clever quickly, learning how to navigate the house to fill their needs independently. They found comfort in one another, concerned with the way Yuri laid perfectly still in his bed. 

His eyes were grey and heavy with lack of sleep. He could barely move without stinging pain in his stomach. And after the first day, he didn’t even want to. With the cats growing at a healthy rate all of his responsibilities were dealt with. All the ones he cared about anyway. 

What was he doing? There had to have been a reason for expanding his brand as quickly as he did. Mostly because that’s what all of the people in his life told him to do, but what was _his_ reason? The only thing that came out of modeling was other modeling jobs. The only thing that came out of sponsorships was making money for other companies that he might not even believe in. The only thing that came out of skating anymore was the time spent doing it. It kept him busy, but without anyone else to support and all the highest records to beat being his own, there was no point. He was twenty years old; some news outlets had already dared to label him as a relic of the figure skating world. The last notch he had yet to acquire was the Olympics where everyone would compare him to Victor. Yuri wasn’t sure he had enough fight in him to go through that again. 

What _was_ he now? To some, he was still well under Victor’s shadow, especially with Victor announcing that he would manage Yuri’s career without his permission. To some, he was still young, beautiful, and stupid like he was when he won his first gold medal. To some, he was crazy, a ticking time bomb just seconds away from self-destruction, child star meeting his demise. In a way, all of them were right. But what was Yuri’s personal identity? What did he like? What did he want? It wasn’t this.

How did he get here? It felt like just yesterday when he was bothering Grandpa while he made pirozhki, and Potya sat quietly at his feet begging for scraps. He was happy then, when success was still a maybe. He still had to work for it. But now, everything he touched was guaranteed to do well. Every move he made was watched, judged, and talked about at great length. He was surrounded by people that admired him, hated him, or wanted to fuck him. But there was no one Yuri could actually talk to. No one to help him plan his escape. He wanted to go. More than anything else he could ever want, he wanted to wake up and be somewhere else. To be someone else. But he was too recognizable and there was nothing to be done. 

Outside in the living room, the front door popped open and a friendly face peered into the house. 

“Good morning!” Victor chimed, earning silence as a reply. His friendly smile fell into a worried frown. He stepped into the house and closed the door behind him. A roaring sound caught his attention and he cautiously followed it into the kitchen. The sink was blasting freezing cold water straight down the drain. Victor turned it off and looked around the house. “Yuri?” It was still and quiet. Victor’s heart plummeted and the color drained from his face. “Yurochka?” he called into the bathroom. He didn’t know whether or not to be relieved when it was empty. 

A flash of color in his peripheral vision darted into Yuri’s bedroom and Victor followed it. With every click the soles of his shoes made against the hardwood floors, Victor’s heart clenched. The house was cold and hollow almost like Yuri wasn’t even there, but something in Victor knew he was. His presence loomed over him like a lost spirit. With a small pause to gather determination, Victor pressed his palm to the middle of the door. 

It was windy in Yuri’s room, a strong draft sent a chill down Victor’s spine. It took a few cycles of squeezing his eyes shut and reopening them before Victor could see through the darkness. Something across the room was moving but he couldn’t tell what, something small and dark. Victor really strained his eyes to see it, wracking his brain on what it could be, when something skittered over the toe of his shoe and he failed to suppress a startled yelp. Victor backed up out of the room and into the dreary light of the living room, followed by what he expected would be something horrible like a rat or a spider of ungodly size. 

A little grey kitten bounded out of the shadows, excitedly chasing after Victor’s shoelaces. He immediately relaxed, kneeling to let the cat sniff his hand. “And what is your name?” Victor asked out loud. The kitten mewed in response and Victor was charmed half to death. “You scared me half to death, but I do have half a mind to take you home.” He sighed. “Sadly, the other half is rational. My daughter is allergic to cats, I’m afraid. It’s too bad, she would love to–”

“What are you doing here?” boomed a voice growling directly from Hell. The cat shivered and ran away, taking cover under the couch. Victor slowly rose to his feet and reentered Yuri’s bedroom. 

On the second venture in, Victor dared to open the door a little wider to let in some of the light spilling in from the balcony. The room was rather orderly by Yuri’s standards, though there was a crumbly mess on the floor by the bed. Victor skipped right over the surface of the bed in search of the source of the voice, completely missing the top of Yuri’s head poking out from under the covers. He barely distorted them. 

“Well?” Yuri pressed, and his voice drew Victor’s eyes right to him. 

“Get dressed,” Victor ordered, masking his worry, “we’re going to practice. Yakov is waiting.” 

“I can’t.” Yuri coughed twice. “I’m sick.” 

Victor’s brow furrowed. “You don’t sound sick, Yuri.”

“Well shit,” Yuri grumbled, “I’m fucking contagious and you broke into my house. Guess we’re all fucked.” Victor cringed at Yuri’s foul language. “Leave me alone to die,” he commanded, “take my estate and donate 20% to charity. I hear Planned Parenthood is in trouble… Break the rest of it up five ways so the girls and Yuuko’s triplets can go to university….” 

The intensity of his voice wasn’t even half of what it was at first and rapidly went softer and softer as he lost energy. Victor crossed the room and took a seat on the bed right in Yuri’s personal space but he couldn’t find it in him to give more than an irritated scowl. Victor bravely brushed the hair from his eyes with a caring hand, searching Yuri’s expression for any discomfort. Deep purple bags formed under Yuri’s eyes and his stomach managed a weak groan under new attention. Victor shook his head. 

“What’s going on with you? Why have you missed so many days with Yakov? We were supposed to try new jumps today.”

“Oh shut up, it’s your fault.” Though perplexed and a little offended, Victor stayed right by his side, listening carefully. “You’re the one who told me to pick him up in the first place,” Yuri spat. It took a while for Victor to put it all together, but understanding crossed his features soon enough. 

“Oh…” Victor nodded to himself. Yuri’s upset may be reasonable, melodramatic, but reasonable. He hadn’t given Yuri any time to prepare for the reunion, but that couldn’t be the whole story. “Did something happen?” Victor asked softly. When Yuri didn’t answer right away, he hummed and pushed more of his hair away to make eye contact. Yuri hissed and Victor withdrew his hand with a tired sigh. “You can tell me,” Victor encouraged, “I’m here to help.” After a solid minute of stubborn silence, Yuri huffed and nodded his head. “Here, sit up,” Victor instructed with an optimistic smile. He sat back and guided Yuri’s shaky muscles into a sitting position. Yuri whimpered, feeling achy and faint. He rested the back of his head on the headboard, breathing shallow breaths to stop the ringing in his ears. 

Flicking on the bedside lamp, Victor had the chance to really look at him. Yuri’s hair was a matted mess, tied up and forgotten like yesterday’s rain. His eyes were sunken, his skin was clammy, he looked visibly thinner and paler like he hadn’t eaten in days. 

“He’s getting married,” Yuri deadpanned, wincing at another wave of starved nausea. Victor stopped breathing for a second, completely thrown for a loop. 

“What?” he questioned, dumbfounded and disappointed. The picture came together all at once. He hadn’t seen Yuri this unhappy in quite some time, and he was unhappy because of something Victor had done. He swallowed nervously. 

“To a girl he met in Spain,” Yuri grudgingly continued, “Everything was a joke. All of it was meaningless.” 

“Oh my…” Victor floundered, “surely… That can’t be the whole story. When did he tell you this?” 

“He didn’t.” 

“Oh.” Victor’s eyes were wide as saucers. His optimism was thinning fast. 

Yuri hugged his knees to his chest, despite his stomach’s protests. His brows turned up and his eyes filled with guilt. “I didn’t even think, I was all over him so fast,” he admitted softly. “He barely told me he had a girlfriend. I had to find the ring on the nightstand while I was with someone else–” His voice cracked right down the middle and Yuri was shocked. He buried his face. “I’m out of control!” 

“No,” Victor easily denied, “Yuri. If he didn’t tell you it wasn’t your fault.” He wanted to go on, but Yuri was going to be tough to convince. He huffed a doubtful sigh, having been stewing in blame for almost a week. 

“Victor,” Yuri sat up and his eyes were red. The sheer hopelessness left Victor dumbstruck. “This means everything that happened was for nothing. _Nothing_ was coming, _nothing_ was going to get any better. Nothing ever mattered. Not back then, not…” Victor cleared away tears welling up in the corners of Yuri’s eyes before they could fall. “I don’t even know why I thought it did. I don’t know what it is that made me think that I made a difference. I don’t even know what it is about _him_ that made me believe him.” 

Victor opened his mouth, closed it again, swallowed, and stayed quiet. Victor was speechless, absorbing all of Yuri’s worries without being able to give any helpful advice. He listened quietly as Yuri did some well-needed unloading. “I was just– I don’t know, I got carried away. I tried to stay away but it was making him anxious. It was making _me_ anxious. So I tried to be nice about it and we had one good day, but I want him so badly it got in the way and I left him alone on the couch.” 

Yuri was quiet for a minute, refusing to even look in Victor’s direction. He had to admit to himself that the weight of the world on his shoulders did seem a little lighter now that someone knew what was going on with him. Victor changed tactics, his mind wandering down a different path.  
“What that one guy I keep seeing around here. He seems to like you a lot.” Yuri screwed up his eyes again, quietly cursing to himself. “Have you seen him lately?” 

Yuri groaned. “Maybe.” There was that adoring laughter again.

“Is he worth pursuing?” Victor pressed curiously. 

“I don’t actively want to kill him, if that’s what you mean.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I hope his little heart gives out.” Victor gave a wicked smirk that caught Yuri off-guard. 

“As a Russian lover, I think we all secretly want that sometimes,” he admitted, “they don’t call us crazy for nothing.”

“Please, you wouldn’t last a day without Yuuri,” Yuri scoffed, giving a weak attempt at a smirk himself. With a life adding a gleam to Yuri’s eye, Victor grinned from ear to ear, pleased in his success at getting him to feel a little better. 

“He misses you, you know. And Stella will probably hurt me if I don’t insist you come over for dinner tonight.” Yuri actually smiled. 

“I love those little shits,” he was happy to admit. 

“And they love you.” A flash of white teeth showed in Yuri’s smile, quickly soured by a wave of dizziness and Yuri had to close his eyes and wait it out. Victor’s smile fell but didn’t fully disappear. 

“Why do you ask?” Yuri curiously brought them back. Victor shrugged. 

“Do you like him?” 

“He’s… okay,” Yuri pondered, “a decent friend. Not that I have any other options.” Victor seemed taken aback. He screwed his face up and hummed thoughtfully. “What?” 

“Does this young man know that you two are _friends_?” 

Yuri offered a confused nod. Tucking in loose tassels, Victor came upon a big greenish-purplish splotch on Yuri’s throat that he hadn’t expected. It seemed to be healing fast, carefully iced and let alone, but Victor couldn’t help but widen his eyes and imagine how dark it must’ve been seconds after it was made. Yuri cleared his throat. Victor realized he was staring. Victor pieced together the best way to explain what was on his mind. The flippant frown pulling down Yuri’s features relaxed some when he realized that Victor wasn’t here to yell at him or tease him. He was taking his time in finding the best ways to help Yuri through these issues. Feeling good about his argument, Victor sat up a little straighter, starting his spiel with a comforting smile. 

“Having a good day by spending time with someone is what friends do. Helping someone when they’re sad is what friends do.” Yuri seemed to follow along well so far. “I want you to be honest and ask yourself this. Do you think he would call it _friends_ if he knew you were sleeping with someone else?” 

“Well…” Yuri remembered Karl mentioning wanting something _more_ than friends. “I mean, he said something about wanting _this_ with me, and wanting to…” Yuri paused with his mouth wide around the next words he would speak. Victor was listening carefully. His mouth snapped shut and Victor could only smile. 

“Oh come on,” Victor prodded playfully, “We’re closer than that. Don’t act like I don’t know what you do.” Yuri turned pink and looked away. “So you’re spending time with this guy. You talk to him, he talks to you. He makes you feel better, right? Less lonely?” Yuri nodded. “Now imagine how he feels about you… What was it like last time you were together.” Yuri’s blush darkened. 

“He showed up at my house super early in the morning,” Yuri recounted, “he listened to me complain for a while and didn’t seem too upset. He was there when I found the ring… We were–” 

“About to have sex,” Victor finished his sentence for him. “And I take it this isn’t the first time.” Yuri had to squeeze his eyes shut. A shiver ran down his spine and he took a deep breath. Victor took this as a no. “Then _friend_ isn’t the right word to use. Usually, if you two were just friends, you’d have sex and realize right away and never do it again. On the other hand...”

“Ew no,” Yuri abruptly protested, voice muffled by his knees. “Make it weird, why don’t you.”

“It’s not an exact science,” Victor restarted with a few breaths of adoring laughter. He could see the tips of Yuri’s ears turn pink. Victor watched Yuri go through all of the stages of grief in a matter of seconds, all without seeing his face. At first he didn’t agree at all. The tips of his ears went from pink to red at the notion that maybe Victor was right. Maybe Victor was right, but he was wrong about that not being what friends do. If Yuri could just get him to admit it. But none of it really mattered, not with the impending marriage that was starting to feel more and more like the day Yuri would die. Maybe Victor was right. Yuri’s eyes drew up towards Victor’s face looking utterly defeated. 

“That’s not friends?” he questioned in a small voice. Victor shook his head with a peaceful smile. “Oh,” Yuri considered, “then what have I been doing?” 

“Leading him on,” Victor said, leaning forward. 

“It’s not my fault,” Yuri snorted stubbornly, “that’s all anyone ever says to me. It’s all my _friends_ that call me late at night…” Victor’s smile faltered for a split second. He exhaled through his nose and Yuri swore he saw steam. 

“Well,” Victor started, “If you don’t feel the same, you owe it to him to tell him the truth. And you have to be okay with it if he wants to stop sleeping with you.” Yuri whined, but guiltily agreed. Victor sighed. “Sex isn’t free, Yuri. It takes a little piece of you every time. Show him the kindness Otabek didn’t give to you and set him free.” With an arm around Yuri’s shoulders, Victor held him tight. “Maybe you should come right now,” he offered. “We’ll ditch practice and you can get some rest in the guest room. I take it it’s been a while since you’ve slept.” 

“Yeah,” Yuri agreed, his voice taking on a nauseated quality. He couldn’t even fully enjoy Victor Nikiforov offering to ditch something, something he’d never even thought to be possible. It passed after a few minutes, Victor insisting on rubbing soothing circles between Yuri’s shoulder blades. He took a deep, cleansing breath and sat up a little straighter. “Uh, I have something for you guys,” he said and moved like he was planning on leaving his bed. “Specifically Akari.” He stood up and immediately had to sit back down. Regaining his balance on unsure legs, he traced his fingers over the walls as he made his way out of the room. Standing in the doorway between his room and the living room, he made a loud kissing noise with his mouth. “If you don’t want her I do,” he warned, “keep your shallow comments to yourself.” 

After a few seconds that served to ramp up Victor’s curiosity, Yuri squeezed the doorframe for dear life as he bent to pick something up. When he turned back into the room, he was holding a little kitten with enormous ears. Victor stood from the bed and crossed the room. He locked eyes with this strange little creature and immediately fell in love. Yuri held onto her tightly. He wasn’t hurting her, but he was definitely ready to hide her from sight if Victor reacted in any way Yuri didn’t deem worthy. He was fierce in his love for her and would protect her from people who didn’t see her in the way he did.

“This breed is hypoallergenic,” Yuri explained her hairlessness defensively, but Victor was captivated by her eyes, “Akari’s always wanted a cat so… I have two more somewhere nearby. Not for her, for me. The others, I mean.” 

“She’s beautiful, Yuri,” Victor swooned, “This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for us, Akari will be so happy.” Yuri gave a crooked smile just thinking about all the ways Akari could react. She was difficult to read unlike her sister who would scream no matter what she felt. “Let’s get going,” Victor suggested, “you look like you’re about to pass out.” Yuri shrugged his shoulders, but Victor knew he was right. Perhaps Yuri would be able to sleep under a roof that wasn’t his own. 

Insisting that Yuri wear a hat and scarf for warmth and publicity reasons, Victor bundled Yuri up to face the cold and he could tell that Yuri would prefer he didn’t. But in light of this unspoken truce for the day, Yuri let Victor care for him as he pleased, part of him actually wanted him to.

* * *

With the girls bounding into the front doors of their preschool, Yuuri made the short trip home to get ready for work. After all this time, after all he’s been through, Yuuri was a little surprised to be working at an ice rink again. He owned it; made great money in endorsements, sponsorships, and teaching classes; and it was located in Russia which was the greatest curveball of them all, but the work was more or less the same day to day. It was simple, easy, and at the end of the day, he enjoyed it. 

He made it home and Egor watched him cross the house with half a mind to tackle him again, he could smell Yuuri’s fear. He eyed the dog as he headed toward the kitchen to start the dishes before he had to leave. With all the plates and silverware stacked away in the dishwasher, Yuuri started on bigger pots and pans when he tensed at the unexpected sound of a key in the lock of the front door. 

“Hello?” he called out, eyes wide behind his glasses. When Victor’s face peeked into the kitchen, he relaxed. 

“Slight change of plans, Yuuri,” Victor explained with that guilty smile he wore when he _knew_ he was being stupid. Stupid things were about to ensue. At first, Yuuri assumed that Victor had forgotten his keys and sat outside in the cold for forty-five minutes to recount his life’s mistakes. Yuuri waited in amused silence, but a thin hooded figure joined them in the kitchen and his demeanor changed completely. 

Yuri hung his head, hiding shame and avoiding the harsh overhead light. He forced a small smile. 

“Oh hey,” Yuuri greeted with surprise and more than a little concern. “Are you feeling okay…?”

Yuuri was exactly the same, to the letter. Getting married and having children couldn’t change his sugar-sweet gentility. He urged for Yuri to sit down, searching Yuri’s face for symptoms to tell him what’s wrong. Yuri would never tell him exactly what happened, he just wasn’t the type. 

“Not dead,” Yuri answered his question as optimistically as possible, glancing over at Victor for assistance when he noticed Victor eyeing Yuuri’s legs in black compression pants. Yuri scoffed and mumbled, “Wow, some things never change.” 

“What was that?” Victor raised his brows but his eyes never strayed. 

“Grow _up_.” Yuri wrinkled his nose. He gave Victor a firm shove and he almost lost his balance. Victor gasped like an affronted old lady, looking for Yuuri to back him up. 

“Don’t look at me. You’re on your own,” Yuuri left him high and dry. Victor whined and Yuri snickered. Rolling his eyes, Victor shoved Yuri right out of his chair to make a point, catching him by the sleeve before he fell. There was hellfire in Yuri’s eyes, but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it in the state he was in. His limbs were falling asleep sitting upright. He settled for a death glare which looked more like a strong pout than anything else. 

“Go take a nap,” Victor advised smugly. “Eat and shower when you wake up, okay?” Yuri was already out of his seat, stalking towards the guest room with a swat of his hand. 

Left alone to face Yuuri, Victor donned an unconvincing grin and threw his hands in the air. Yuuri shook his head and waited for Victor to try to convince him that Yuri should stay. Victor gaped like a fish, remembering back to some of the fights the three of them had gotten into. Fear played underneath a mask of exuberance and Victor couldn’t get any words to leave his lips. 

“I don’t have to go to work today,” Yuuri had to interrupt, “I’d be more than happy to stay here and watch him.” 

“Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” Victor made doubly sure. “He does know where everything is, we can leave him here alone.” 

Yuuri’s brows shot up to his forehead. “Egor will kill him for sure. I don’t mind. I’ll work from home.” 

“My angel,” Victor beamed. His eyes lit up. He smiled so wide his dimples dug deep into his cheeks. 

Victor took his time in slotting their lips together. With the kids out of the house he could dip his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth, swallowing a welcoming sigh. Victor fell in love with every soft suck at his lips, but he knew he had to head out again and reluctantly broke the kiss with a smack. “I’m going to deal with Yakov then I’ll be back,” he promised, kissing Yuuri’s forehead. 

“Sounds great,” Yuuri conceded. 

“Ew, fuck, my _eyes._ ” Yuri had somehow snuck back into the kitchen to loudly fill a glass with water. “Get a room,” he spat and he rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck and he panicked a little. 

“This is _my house_?” Victor turned a statement into a question again. Yuuri covered his mouth to hide his laughter. “I hang out with too many kids,” Victor grumbled to himself. 

Tucking his nose into a fluffy down comforter light as a cloud, Yuri slept like a rock for the first time in almost a week. Victor had always been one to aspire for the best, and Yuri hadn’t quite understood why Victor was so uptight about his surroundings, but he got it now. Yuri was rolled into a tight ball in the very center of a bed he genuinely believed was crafted in heaven. Or Sweden. With a pillow tucked between his knees, a secret trick he’d picked up from Lilia’s other pupils as a way to ensure spinal alignment, Yuri drifted off in a matter of minutes and wouldn’t wake for anything. Once Victor had gotten home, both he and Yuuri stopped to check on him and cooed at how peaceful he looked when he slept. But hours later, a suspicious groan and a thud against the wall made Yuri scowl before he was awake enough to comprehend what was happening. 

“Goddamn it,” he huffed and slammed the heel of his hand against the wall where the thumping came from. After a stretch of silence, he heard someone snicker on the other side of the wall. Yuri mumbled curses under his breath, raising his hands over his head to stretch out his spine. With a lazy kick he splayed his legs into a perfect split and walked his hands out towards the footboard and grabbed on tight. It wasn’t as thorough of a stretch as he would’ve gotten with help, but Victor seemed to be busy and Yuri didn’t care enough to even think about entering that danger zone. 

Showering was the most real trial he’d ever faced. More than once did he want to give up and cut out the giant rat’s nest at the back of his head but with enough conditioner and prayer to any gods listening, he managed to loosen it without pulling out a noticeable amount of hair. Hot water warmed the surface of his skin. He stepped out of the bathroom looking alive and more or less healthy. Wearing what he would normally wear to a day of training, Yuri gave Victor the opportunity to lie to his girls when they inevitably asked how practice went. At least the neck of his top was high enough to cover the vamp stamp on his neck. 

“Ready to go, Sleeping Beauty?” Victor openly mocked Yuri from the living room when he emerged from a five hour nap and a war with his own hair. 

“Sleeping Beauty was technically in a coma for a hundred years. Her first suitors died trying to get to her.” Yuri shot back. The teasing smile on Victor’s face stayed put but took on new meaning when his eyes widened and his brows shot up. He was frozen like that for a second and Yuri had to clench his jaw to stop from laughing. “Yes, I’m ready.” Breezing right past him, Yuri stepped back out into the world and waited for Victor out on the pavement. With half of his body still in the house, Victor briefly explained the cat to Yuuri and thanked him a dozen times for holding onto her until they got back. 

The drive to the preschool was uneventful. Victor liked to get there a little early to avoid having to park too far away. The colder it got outside the less Stella and Akari felt like walking, and as much as he loved to hold them in his arms, carrying them both was getting harder and harder the bigger they grew. He dreaded the day he couldn’t pick them up anymore. The school doors were propped open and crowds of children skipped out into the courtyard. Some parents waited in their cars, some had walked and stood off to the side, and Victor and Yuri lept out of the car to scan around for Stella and Akari. Victor saw them first. 

“Here they come,” Victor pointed out two girls excitedly counting all the faces they saw in search of people they knew. He folded his arms and stood off to the side, watching Yuri’s face light up. “Yuri,” he glanced over, “you have a dazzling smile.”

“Shut up, old man.” Victor expected as much, but Yuri couldn’t bring himself to deliver much conviction. The second he saw them, they saw him. And they zeroed in like missiles. 

“YUYA!” the girls screamed in unison. They broke into a sprint, or at least as close to a sprint as a three year old could come to. Despite their age, most tended to give them more credit than that. These girls were already brilliant and impressively talented. 

Squatting to meet their heights, Yuri braced for impact with a wide smile. Still, the girls were running with too much momentum and couldn’t stop in time. They full-on tackled him, knocking Yuri flat on his back. 

“Ow! Shit!” He complained with a grin at two smiling faces. Victor subtly kicked him in the side. “Ow! What the hell!” 

“Don’t curse.” He kicked him again. 

“Yuya,” Stella distracted Yuri from getting into a fight, “Akari caught a fish today!” Akari nodded eagerly. “She threw it back so it can be with its daddies too!” 

“Is that so?” The girls nodded and squeezed him tight. “Get off me, brats, I’m too old for this.” Stella resisted, but Akari wiggled off right away and helped yank her sister off of Yuri’s stomach. Once Yuri got to his feet, Stella clung to his arm and Akari held his hand as they headed back to the car. 

“Are you staying forever?” Stella asked hopefully. 

“Not this time. I got a few things left to do before I can move in forever.” 

Stella pouted harder than Yuri ever had in his entire life. “Can’t you do them while we’re at school?” 

After a power struggle between Stella and Yuri over car seats, Yuri gave up and let her try and navigate all the buckles and tassels herself. She gave up and Yuri took the win with grace and dignity, making faces at her the whole ride home. He knew Victor secretly hated all the noise, fatherhood had made him a nervous driver, but the laughter echoing off the walls made it doable and they all made it home in one piece. Stella jumped onto Yuri’s back the second she found and opening. She scrambled to get a good grip at his shoulders and eventually settled for slapping her palms down over his eyes. 

“Stella, I can’t see,” Yuri informed her. Victor unashamedly snapped a few photos before Yuri could find out. 

“Go that way!”

“Go where, Stella. I can’t see through your hands.” Victor helped her find a better hold that wouldn’t compromise anyone’s vision or safety. The whole team bounded up to the house where Egor watched them from the window as excitedly as a big lazy dog could be. Yuuri greeted Victor at the door first with a smile and a Christian side-hug, still pretty embarrassed about how Yuri had woken from his nap. 

“Hey Stella,” Yuuri started, “can you see if Egor is ready for a walk?” She jumped off of Yuri’s back in a flash, scurrying over to where Egor had laid himself back down in front of the fireplace, very clearly not wanting to get up anytime soon. But the challenge delighted her, and Stella used all her strength trying to push him to a standing position. The harder she pushed on his back the louder he grumbled in protest until he looked her right in the face and barked so loud Stella jumped a foot into the air, giggling as she went. 

“Psst.”

Akari, watching her sister struggle with the dog, gasped and whipped around towards the hall where Yuri was hiding around the corner. He waved her over with a finger at his lips, pointing her in the direction of her bedroom. She wandered over and Yuri encouraged her to go in first. She stuck close to the doorframe, looking into the room with caution and curiosity. Victor and Yuri locked eyes. Yuri showed him a bottle of benadryl stowed away in his pocket just in case and Victor gave him the go-ahead with a thumbs up. 

Heading into the room with her, Yuri sat cross-legged on the floor still wearing a hoodie. “How’re you doing, Akari?” he asked. She stood before him, happy to get away from all the noise. She was like Yuuri in that way, a lot of people talking stressed her out. She could hear herself think alone in here with Yuri. 

“I threw back the fish and Illya laughed at me,” she told him. She shyly covered a lot of her face with her hands but left her eyes clear. Yuri frowned. 

“And what is Illya?” he questioned. Akari thought about it. 

“Stupid,” she replied with certainty, and Yuri gave her a proud smile. 

“Exactly,” he affirmed. “Think about that the next time he’s mean to you. Don’t listen to him. It was sweet of you to save the fish.” 

Akari blushed under her hands and Yuri needed a second to try to understand how he’d gotten here. She was a perfect combination of her fathers. Stella reminded him a little more of Victor, but Akari had a balance of Victor and Yuuri in everything she did. She didn’t even seem real in moments like this. Long dark hair was definitely from Yuuri and it complimented bright blue eyes perfectly. They were perfect copies of Victor’s eyes but they emoted much more calmly than he did. Akari was a truly gorgeous little girl with a pure heart. She made everyone around her feel at peace. 

“I got you something,” Yuri was happy to say, just to see what kind of smile she’d give him this time, “something just for you.” Her eyes grew ten sizes. Yuri pulled out a hand-sized kitten, holding it out so she could see. Akari gasped, staring at it knowing not what to say. “Wanna hold her?” Yuri prompted. She nodded and tentatively held out her hands. “Like this.” Guiding her hands to hold the kitten upright, Akari looked into the kitten’s eyes. In a way, they resembled hers. The cat purred and rubbed its ears into Yuri’s palm where he spotted Akari’s hands. “See? She likes you already,” Yuri observed, “What should we call her?”

Akari had tears in her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks in waves but she wasn’t sad. She didn’t seem itchy or uncomfortable either. “Ume,” she replied in a small voice. 

The door kicked open and Victor stood in the doorway. Akari rushed over to show him her new kitten. 

“Papa,” she held her up so Victor could see. “Can we keep her?” 

“Of course, little lamb,” he replied easily, “go show your sister.” 

Akari scooted past him and hurried towards the living room, calling for Yuuri and Stella as she went. Yuri stood up to follow after her, wanting badly to see the look on Stella’s face. He knew Egor would love the kitten like a child. Ume was the newest member of the family. Yuri was already upon him when he realized Victor hadn’t moved. He blocked the doorway with purpose, the smile on his face falling away. Yuri frowned. 

“What’s the problem?” he questioned. Victor didn’t move or speak. “Get out of the way, we’re missing it.” Yuri insisted, and he could tell he was starting to wear Victor down. He wasn’t very good at denying people things they wanted. Yuri stood still and waited for some sort of explanation, Victor’s mood-change was highly unusual, but a high-pitched scream made him forget about it for now. He pushed his way through the door to see what was happening. 

“No, Yuri–” Victor tried to stop him, but it was already too late. 

Otabek and Yuuri were standing in the living room. Stella jumped into Yuri’s arms, squealing like a little delighted piglet and thanking him a million times over for Akari’s kitten. Yuri almost missed catching her, eyes wide and locked onto Otabek who looked just as surprised. 

“Otabek can stay with us for a little, right Victor?” Yuuri asked considerately. Yuri realized now that Victor had never communicated any of the past happenings to his husband. “He offered to walk the dog in the mornings,” Yuuri added expectantly. 

“Yes, of course,” Victor agreed, hospitality was another weakness of his. He could tell Yuuri had already mostly said yes just for the opportunity to avoid being crushed by Egor first thing in the morning. Yuri, on the other hand, held onto Stella and burned a hole in the side of Victor’s head with his eyes. “Girls, this is Otabek,” Victor introduced as comfortably as possible. “This is Stella and this is Akari.” 

“And Yuya,” Stella patted Victor’s shoulder. 

“And Yuya…” Victor dared to glance down at Yuri’s face. No one knew what to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hit up this blog bitch, [angstgods on tumblr](angstgods.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> [accepting comments, prompts, and commissions at our tumblr.](angstgods.tumblr.com)


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